


Love in the Wild

by thursdaysfallenangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blackmail, Carpenter!Dean, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Past Child Abuse, Reality TV, Recreational Drug Use, artist!Cas, mentions of a criminal past, superficial pairings created by reality TV rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 148,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdaysfallenangel/pseuds/thursdaysfallenangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam decides it’s time for Dean to get his life together, he forces him onto a reality TV show. Supposedly a couple of weeks in the jungle with nineteen other hopeless people is all Dean needs to find “Love in the Wild.” Dean’s determined not to. It’s the principle of the matter. He hadn’t counted on meeting Cas, a down on his luck artist who's only there to win the grand prize – a trip around the world. When Dean is saddled with him on the show, things immediately become complicated. Can the relationship they build in the jungles of Costa Rica survive in the outside world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [deancasbigbang](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) 2014\. Inspired by the reality TV show Love in the Wild. None of the characters are mine, they're only being borrowed for my game show fantasies. I have no experience working in reality TV.
> 
> This fic has been a long time coming, and I'm so excited to finally get it out there. I'm really proud to say that I've finished it.
> 
> I want to thank my amazing friend [Abby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/abbythebollix/pseuds/abbythebollix), with whom out this fic simply wouldn't have happened. She's read this monster at least ten times over and edited it within a very inch of its life, going way above and beyond. Her comments made the process bearable, and without her I wouldn't have been able to keep going.
> 
> Thanks to [Rachel](rabalaskas.tumblr.com), who truly is this fic's biggest fan. She's listened to ideas, good and bad, and tolerated my whining every time I wanted to give up. She's been a fantastic friend and has done more then her fair share of looking over this fic as well, for which I am so grateful.
> 
> Thanks to [n_nami](http://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami), whose guidance and mentoring has made writing my first fic enjoyable. I'd be lost without her, really.
> 
> And finally, thanks to my absolutely FANTASTIC artist [mycolour](mycolour.tumblr.com). I simply could not have asked for a better person to work with, or for more beautiful art, and I'm so lucky she chose my fic. You can view her wonderful masterpost [here](http://mycolour.tumblr.com/post/103622611914/dcbb-love-in-the-wild-by-thursdaysfallenangel).

_I am not amused_ , Sam Winchester thinks to himself. To his recollection the sentence has only crossed his mind twice before. The first time had involved super glue and his shampoo, the second a double date and a girl at least three feet shorter than him. Both of those instances had involved Dean.

Funny how his amusement always seemed to end with Dean.

“Is it over?” The Dean in question stumbles after him, face still disturbingly green despite how many times he’d emptied his stomach on the plane. “Have I finally made it to Hell?”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” Sam sighs, rolling his eyes and glancing around the airport. He’d been to Houston once before, on a spring break with a group of people he now barley remembers. Unfortunately the lack of memory also affects his knowledge of the layout of the airport. “Look, I think baggage is that way.”

“Right,” his brother scrubs a palm over his face and straightens. Sam can see him visibly pulling himself back together, until brazen Dean Winchester emerges once more. “Lead the way, Gigantor. I can’t see shit over all the floppy hats.”

He takes a deep breath. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks. Sam wants to believe this whole trip is for him, that he’s on his way to Costa Rica to meet a pretty girl, possibly win a game show. But if he’s gonna be totally honest with himself the only reason they’re really doing this is for Dean, because Dean needs to get over Cassie and get out of Sam’s apartment. Luckily the production people at _Love in the Wild_ had liked his hastily cut together video of Dean being his usual self while cooking breakfast and watching TV. It must’ve been all the natural charm his brother touts out for special occasions.

A young woman runs over Dean’s foot with her little rolly suitcase, a snarky “excuse you,” floating through the air back at them as she continues on her way.

“Bitch,” Dean says eloquently.

Yup. Surely it was the natural charm.

Still, it’s not like Dean isn’t handsome, or a nice guy, he just won’t get off his ass and get out there again. And even if he did, Sam’s not sure he trusts Dean not to choose a girl who eats ‘tough on the outside, soft on the inside’ guys like him for breakfast.   

So what if he had to resort to a totally cheesy sounding reality show (with an ad in _Cosmo_ , no less, because apparently he was desperate enough to risk being caught reading ‘Ten New Ways to Woo Your Man’ -shut up Dean) in order to find Dean the right person? And so what if he was taking full advantage of said reality show’s promise to create forever lasting couples by participating himself?

“Hey,” Dean nudges him and nods towards the baggage claim area, where a woman is tirelessly holding up a sign proclaiming ‘LOVE IN THE WILD CONTESTANTS.’ “That for us?”

His question is answered when the woman spots them and strides right over with no hesitation, sticking out her hand. “Hey you two. I’m guessing you’re ours? Jody Mills, production manager.”

“Uh yeah, hey,” Dean has already returned her handshake, an automatic reaction learned early in childhood. “Do we look like yours?”

“You’ve got the look,”   she smiled.

Sam’s sure they do. Already they’ve attracted a crowd, girls tittering behind their hands and men smirking openly at them.

Dean better appreciate him for this.

***

Dean fucking hates his brother.

Of course, he really doesn’t, but it’s the type of mantra he likes to let run through his head when Sam does stupid ‘it’ll enrich your life Dean’ stuff like sign him up for a dating game show.

Yeah that’s right, a dating game show. As in, Dean’s gonna be stuck in some remote location with eighteen other guys and gals and be expected to make kissy faces at everything with legs dating game show.   

Sam seems to think he’s not over his last (and first, really) girlfriend Cassie, even though he _totally is_. Sam’s couch is comfortable, is all, and Dean doesn’t feel much like apartment hunting after he just went through the hassle of it with his ex.

It’s only been about a month, Sammy needs to hold his fucking horses.

Still, it’s not so bad, he guesses. The only reason Dean had really agreed to send in that dumb video is because Sam said he would only send one in if he did. Dean doesn’t know squat about the show, other than that he’s expected to do survival stuff and make out with people. Which sounds easy enough, and Sammy looked excited about it, casually letting slip he’d try out too if Dean was interested in doing it. Sam hadn’t had a date since he was an undergrad. Or sex, Dean is pretty sure. He’s afraid he’s cramping the kid’s style by crashing on his couch, so agreeing to one of his dumb ideas is really the least he can do.

The baggage conveyer belt makes a particularly loud noise and he tunes back into the conversation in time to hear Jody say, “Dean and Sam right? Our two brothers?”

“That’s us,” he nods. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

“Nope,” Jody smiles. “You were the only two who had to come to Houston. Everyone else was able to get a flight straight to location.”

“Not too many people in Kansas are dying to get to Costa Rica.” Sam shoots an agreeable smile in return, the one Dean knows means he’s trying to convey he’s actually gentler than his massive body would imply.

“Wait, what?” Dean asks. “I thought we were here. Houston. We’re on location, right?”

“Nope, I’ve got one more flight booked for us. Forty passenger plane, nice and intimate. We need to be at gate B4 in twenty minutes. You boys got your luggage? Ready to go?”

Dean feels as if he’s justified in saying it out loud now. “I fucking hate you, Sammy.”

***

Castiel is broke.

He’s broke and he’s bored of his job, a problem for most people but most definitely a problem for Castiel, because when an artist gets bored he stops making money.

Castiel had stopped painting before he got to that point of boredom, so at least he got to choose when and how he went broke.

“You need to do new things, meet new people,” his manager had urged him over the phone. “A change of scenery for inspiration, a muse! Actually you know what Castiel, I’ve got a great idea for you, I just read about it in Cosmo…”

Castiel had listened to Inias ramble on about the reality show with some apprehension. Finding a relationship seemed to be the whole point of competing, and he needed one of those like he needed a hole in the head. He was fine with his casual hook-ups, thank you very much.

“And,” Inias had finally finished triumphantly, “first prize is a trip around the world with your partner. Come on Castiel, at the very least it can get you some publicity. What do you say?”

"Since you’re twisting my arm about it,” he’d responded dryly.

He may not need a relationship, but he did need inspiration, an occupation, and a steady paycheck.

So he’d sent in an audition tape, and now here he was.


	2. Chapter 1

Dean has never been on a TV show before, but judging by what he’s hearing he’s absolutely going to hate all this behind the scenes crap.

“It’s just an intro,” Jody explains as they pull up to the set. “You know, so the audience knows all about you and they can get a feel on who they’re gonna start rooting for. Just be yourself.”

Dean misses what else she’s saying, too distracted by the fact that they’re in the freakin’ jungle of Costa Rica. Besides, whenever he talks himself up to someone he always ends up feeling kind of dirty about it later, like he’s sold himself. And that’s basically all this is, isn’t it? Like a job interview for the role of America’s next sweetheart.

“Dean,” Sam says, tone of voice implying he’d repeated his name several times in the past few minutes. “Jody wants to know if you’re going to need anything from her.”

“Need? Like what?”

“I’m responsible for your comfort,” Jody explains. “Of course, certain things I can’t get you due to the nature of the show, but we have a pretty nice spread of food for all the contestants. Anything in particular you’d like me to get?”

“Pie,” he answers immediately.

She smiles. “Well you’re an easy one, aren’t you?”

“I’m a man of simple needs. What’d you ask for Sammy? Some leaves to chew on?”

“Pineapple,” Sam makes a face at him. “I hear it’s good here.”

Dean sighs at his brother’s hopelessness and leans over the side of the Jeep, watching the wheels turn easily over the dirt road. “So what exactly is our living situation going to be like?”

“You’ll see,” Jody replies easily, turning off the main road and onto a rougher side track. “It’s all part of the show.”

Well, that doesn’t sound at all promising.

Gradually the trees begin to thin out slightly, widening the open space until it becomes a whole clearing, stuffed to the brim with everything needed to make a TV show. Trailers are arranged in a semi-circle around a more permanent structure in the center, and there are people and camera equipment everywhere. Dean can’t believe he hadn’t heard all the noise they were making a mile away.

“This is where the crew stays,” Jody explains. “You guys are further along, but they needed you here real quick to shoot.”

“I hadn’t realized there would be so many people.”

“We probably do have more camera men then normal. Often times couples go off on their own or get separated during challenges and we need y’all to be covered.”

Dean smirks at Sam at the ‘go off on their own’ comment, to which Sam responds by rolling his eyes. Kid needed to lighten up if he wanted to have any tropical jungle sex. Especially if they were being filmed 24/7, then everyone in the country was gonna know about the giant stick up his ass.

"Don’t worry, we’re strictly PG-13. Network show and everything,” Jody adds, parking the Jeep behind the trailer furthest to the left. “You guys ready to go on camera?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean replies and jumps off the side of the Jeep. “Want me to go first Sam? See how a professional does it?”

Sam smiles at him, pleased his brother is at least pretending to have fun. It was a step. “Sure Dean. I bow to your superior skills.”

"That’s more like it,” he replies cheerfully. “You should have had that attitude years ago.”

“I might’ve, if I wasn’t constantly kicking your ass at MarioKart.”

Dean scowls. “Those Nintendo 64 controllers were fucking ridiculous man. They expected a ten year old to be able to handle those things?”

“Maybe you just have abnormally small hands?” Sam suggests innocently, laughing and dodging his brother’s following punch and sticking his tongue out when he’s safely on the other side of the Jeep.

"Respect your elders Samantha.”

Jody claps loudly, gaining their attention and following through with applause at the same time. “Excellent, make sure you two do that sort of thing on camera,” she says briskly, turning and knocking on the trailer door behind her. Dean and Sam exchange confused looks as Sam comes back around the Jeep to stand next to Dean.

“Bobby! Open the damn door!”

The trailer door abruptly slams open, a loud clanging echoing through the clearing as metal hits metal. Dean’s impressed with Jody for not even flinching, because he and Sam had both definitely startled.

“Dammit, what is it Jody? I gotta hard enough time babysitting twenty kids with giant ass cameras, I need to babysit you too?”

You could almost hear Jody’s eyes roll as she regards the gruff, bearded man in front of her. “Got Sam and Dean here for ya Bobby. They need to film their intros.”

Bobby barely spares them a glance before he grumbles, “’bout time,” and abruptly retreats back into the trailer.

“Well,” Jody turns and smiles at the two brothers. “That’s my cue to go. Just listen to Bobby and you shouldn’t have much trouble. He’ll bring you down to where the contestants are being held when you’re all done, but if he’s being ornery just find someone with a walkie and have ‘em call me.”

“Don’t worry, we like ornery,” Dean grins in return.

Sam looks doubtfully at the trailer. “Are we supposed to follow him in?”

“Nah, he’s just grabbing some cameramen, we’ve been filming everyone on a natural background,” she replies, tapping the walkie talkie on her hip. “Remember what I said. I’ll see you boys later.” With that she turns and leaves, heading for the building in the center of the clearing.

“Hey, I think that’s where they eat,” Dean says, catching sight of a crew member carrying out a plate of pizza. “You think we can get food?”

“You just ate Dean.”

“Yeah, before the double plane ride you tricked me onto,” Dean glares. “I lost my last meal somewhere over the Atlantic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

“You two girls done chit-chatting?” Bobby’s back, trailed by two other men. The first is of medium height with short curly hair, glasses, and a large camera slung over his shoulder. The second is of about the same height, with darker hair. He’s trying to maneuver a boom mike with little success.

“Harry, get that thing out of my face!”

“You try carrying it Ed. Why am I always stuck with the mike? Why can’t I have the camera?”

“Because you’ll _drop it_.”

“Shut it,” Bobby growls over his shoulder. “Dean, and Sam Winchester, right? These two chuckleheads are Harry and Ed. They’re one of the millions of little annoyances I got running around here. Ed, Harry, these are our last two contestants. Let’s get to it.”

“Hey,” Harry says, swinging the mike around and narrowly missing smacking Sam in the head. “Woah, you’re tall.”

Sam moves closer to his brother, trying to stay out of the way. “Thanks, I know.”

“Sammy’s real sensitive about his height,” Dean smirks, glancing around.

Sam laughs. “Actually, I think you’re just self-conscious because people always think you’re the younger brother.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters. “They do not.” He clears his throat and avoids meeting anyone’s eye as he asks, “So what is it exactly you want us to do?”

“Follow me,” Bobby takes off, heading behind the trailer and back closer to the trees. “We’re just gonna put you boys up against the green, nice and pretty. Who’s first?”

“I am,” Dean raises a finger in recognition and moves in front of where Ed is fiddling with the camera. “You want me right here?”

Bobby’s playing with an iPhone and doesn’t glance up at Dean when he answers. “Perfect, princess.”

Dean scowls, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waiting for Ed to stop screwing around with whatever button he was having trouble with. “Ok Bobby. We’re rolling.”

“Right. Winchester, I need name, hometown, occupation, and what you expect outta the whole experience. Whenever you’re ready.”

Sam watches as a cocky grin slides easily onto Dean’s face and his posture relaxes. “Hey. So, Dean Winchester. I’m a carpenter in Lawrence, Kansas. I’m here for the women.”

“Stop,” Bobby sighs, rolling his eyes. “You gonna be one of those, boy?”

Dean shrugs. “Depends on what you think I am.”

“Difficult. Look, be a jackass all you want once we get going, but at least put a little effort into making sure not everyone hates you right off the bat. God knows we’ve got enough of those. I’ve seen your audition tape, cut the crap and get to it.”

“My audition tape?” Dean says, looking confused. He remembers making that, Sam had stood in front of the TV with his phone until Dean gave up trying to watch and pretty much just half-assed it the same way he was now. Because he didn’t care and he still doesn’t. “My audition tape was exactly like this.”

Sam coughs and Dean shoots him a suspicious look.

“Sure,” Bobby rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Do it again.”

Ed straightens the camera back up and points it expectantly at Dean.

“Ok, uh.” Dean rubs the back of his neck before he sighs, dropping his hand to give a more natural smile. Damn but he hates this. “My name is Dean Winchester. I’m a carpenter in Lawrence, Kansas, but I also like to work on cars when I can. I’m here because…I guess because the normal route isn’t working for me, and this is something new.” He shrugs helplessly at the camera. “I dunno man. Maybe there’s someone here, maybe there isn’t. But at least I’m trying.” He glances at Sam and adds quickly, “and uh, I’m here to keep my brother Sam’s ass in line. He’s a real ladies man, gotta be here when he breaks their hearts.”

"I guess we’ll take what we can get,” Bobby grumbles. “Alright Sam, you’re next.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says. “Thanks Dean. Really needed you to talk me up.”

“Hey, you can thank me later when all of America falls in love with your big sad eyes,” Dean smiles cheekily, ducking quickly when Harry swings the mike again. “Jesus man!”

“Sorry, it’s heavy and he needs it higher,” Harry says sheepishly, now with a firm grip around the pole. “I think he’s the tallest contestant we have.”

“Well yeah, he’s like eight feet.”

“Six five,” Sam corrects, like it matters. Dean still remembers when Sam was two feet, he’ll call him whatever height he wants.

“Just do that dumb puppy face you got into the camera so we can go eat,” he says, waving his hand at him.

Sam purses his lips at him and turns back to the camera.

“Whenever you’re ready boy.”

“Hey uh, so I’m Sam, I’m Dean’s brother—“

"Younger,” Dean interjects from off camera. Sam scowls at him.

Bobby waves a hand. “Keep goin’.”

“Yeah so, Dean’s brother. I’m a law student at the University of Kansas, and I, uh, I guess I’m here because I really want to experience true love, and this seems as good a way as any.”

"Aw Sammy, that was sweet,” Dean coos as Ed lowers the camera and Harry drops the mike with a sigh of relief.

"Laugh it up Dean, the more you make fun of me the more crap I get to give you when you fall head over heels for someone here.”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Sure Sam. And when me and my true love get married we’ll let you have a puppy.”

Sam just shakes his head. Dean might like to pretend that he doesn’t have feelings, but Sam knows better. He’d had a chance to hang out with Dean and Cassie a few times, and he knew Dean had really loved her. If his brother is going to refuse to take this seriously, all he can do is watch out for him and wait for the other shoe to drop.

***

So far Castiel hasn’t been overly impressed with the inner workings of a TV show. He doesn’t watch too much television to begin with, but at least the every once in a while he does flip his set on, _Untold Stories of the ER_ or whatever is ready for him. Nice. Put together. It’s been a mess since he stepped off the plane into Costa Rica, what with the several different people annoying the hell out of him by asking him the same question repeatedly and the ten minutes he spent wandering around the area he’d been brought to, trying to figure out if he was supposed to be anywhere. It didn’t seem very organized to him, but then again, he knows nothing about making reality TV. These people could be more put together than the Queen of England.

Oh, and the talking. Castiel’s very limited exposure to TV has allowed him to forget how one on one reality TV shows liked to be with their cast. It’s not that he minds being on camera, it’s just that it seems so exhausting. All the words and putting on a front so people will like him – apparently the show has enough contestants who are full of themselves (Castiel was pretty sure that was polite speak for ‘smartass’) – his usual lot in life.

He remembers the gruff advice of the head director Bobby. “Just be yourself,” he’d advised before setting the camera on Castiel. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, Castiel has to admit he’s not totally sure what that means. He, himself, is an artist from Boston, Massachusetts who wants to be on the show for publicity. Besides, he’d already been warned against the smartass thing, so what of himself is there left to give? He’d been completely honest, yet Bobby had seemed disappointed. For some reason Castiel couldn’t figure out, that irritates him.

After his less than stellar experience with the camera, a PA is sent to bring him to what she calls the lounge inside a small single story building. “It’s for off camera interactions,” she explains. “You know, in case you guys need a break or wanna talk without the cameras. They aren’t allowed in here, just out in the main area, and the cabins, where you’ll be spending most of your time. There are bathrooms and stuff in this building too, and it’s where the kitchen is. We’re waiting on two more of the guys, but everyone else is in there already, and once you’re all settled Jody and Bobby will get you guys started, ok? Need anything?”

“No, thank you,” Castiel replies, waiting a beat to make sure she’s finished talking. He’d barely taken it all in, she’d gone so fast. “So I just…” he trails off, waiting for her to pick up the sentence. She doesn’t, and he rolls his eyes involuntarily. “Can I go in now?”

"Yup! I’d suggest making friends now,” she suggests. “The show likes everyone to think you guys know nothing about one another when you pick your partner, but I can tell you right now that’s not the case. You know last year’s winners, Michael and Eve? They knew they wanted to partner up way before the cameras were rolling.”

“You know quite a bit about the show, don’t you?” Castiel asks thoughtfully.

“Sure, I’ve worked here all three seasons.”

He cocks his head, subtly moving in closer to her. “Does that mean I should make you my friend?”

“Oh, wow, ok,” she blushes fiercely and looks away. “I mean, uh, yeah I guess, uh, that’d be a good idea…”

“No one here really falls in love on camera, do they?” he continues, lowering his voice. “It’s all strategy between the contestants. I’m betting it’s much more real behind the scenes.”

“Oh, well,” the PA bites her lip, eyes wide. “I…yeah. I guess it could be, if you were to, uh, know how to get behind the scenes…”

“Maybe you can show me around sometime then,” Castiel proposes, stepping away. “What was your name?”

“Rachel,” she says quickly. “I’m Rachel, if you need anything.”

“I’ll remember,” he winks and pushes the door open. He’s met with an abrupt silence, as if opening the door had caused all the sound in the small comfortable looking room to cease.

And it probably had, since the various groups of people around the room look as if they’d been stopped mid-sentence in order to turn and look at the door.

“Hello,” Castiel says to the room at large, trying to figure out which group looks most amenable to letting him join.

However chatter picks up again before he has a chance to study anybody too carefully, so he decides to focus on the room instead. There’s a small bar towards the left side with quite a few people gathered around, some are leaning against the back wall, and a couch to the right is also home to a group. Maybe he should try his luck at the bar…

“Oi, Blue Eyes! Over here!”

Castiel turns his attention to the L-shaped couch where a blond man wearing a deep V-neck is sitting with two girls, both redheads. “Yes—you,” he says, gesturing. “All bloody soulful looking. Come on over here then.”

Castiel makes his way cautiously over, a look of teasing disbelief already forming. “You could tell the color of my eyes from all the way over here?”

“They were piercing, I took a stab at the color,” he grins audaciously. “I’m Balthazar, the two beautiful women next to me are Charlotte and Anna.”

“Charlie,” the girl with bangs corrects, smiling brightly at Castiel. “Hey! This is pretty cool, huh? I’ve always wanted to be on TV, but I never thought it’d be a dating show. I was planning on playing the badass female lead, but I suppose I could work the Black Widow thing here too.”

Anna laughs, smiling indulgently. “I think you’ve got that one locked up.” She glances at Castiel, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the couch. “Come on, sit down! What’s your name?”

“I’m Castiel,” he replies, staring at her hand. “I believe I can sit down on my own, but thanks for your concern.”

“Oh! Sorry,” she blushes, letting go of his hand as he sat.

“So where are you from Cassie?” Balthazar asks, leaning back on the couch and sliding an arm back to rest behind Charlie. “Are you anyone interesting?”

“I don’t particularly think so,” Castiel says, tilting his head in thought. “I’m from Boston.”

“Oh nice!” Anna says. “I’m from San Francisco.”

“Heathens, the lot of you,” Balthazar sighs. “Does no one in this country appreciate New York City anymore?”

“I’ve had work featured in a gallery in New York,” Castiel offers. “I had a great time sucking up to rich pretentious people with no personal meaning in their own lives.”

Charlie bursts out laughing. “I like you. I’ve dedicated my life to ruining those of pretentious asshats. So gallery, huh? Are you an artist?”

"Sometimes,” he nods. “Right now I’m not.”

“Deep,” Balthazar says, looking slightly impressed despite himself. Castiel opens his mouth to tell him it wasn’t deep, he really was unemployed at the moment – but Balthazar continues without pause. “Wanna hear the who’s who of the esteemed _Love in the Wild_ Cassie?”

“It would probably be a good idea to learn everyone. The PA told me I should make friends.”

“Ohhh, a PA hmm?” Balthazar grins knowingly at him. Castiel gives him a deadpan look, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Yes I do suppose that’s one way of going about it here, if you don’t want to play the game.”

“Quit teasing him Balthazar,” Charlie interjects. “We’re already your friends Castiel, see? We’ve all only talked about five minutes; you’re not at a disadvantage or anything.”

Castiel decides to humor them. “I suppose we can be friends, if you can make it worth it to me.”

“I can do that, easy. Look, here’s every one you need to know,” Anna says promptly, sitting up and quickly rattling off names as she points around the room. “Luke, Lisa, Jo, Chuck, Kevin, Victor, Benny, Gilda, Becky, Gordon, Meg, Ruby, Bela and Jess.”

Castiel blinks at her as she beams, “How’d I do?”

“Incredible,” Balthazar says, still slowly following the path Anna’s finger had mapped out.

“If by incredible you mean completely impossible to follow.”

Anna waves her hand. “It’s not like it matters. We can just all choose each other, at least for the first task.”

“Oh,” Charlie says, shifting on the couch. “Well actually—“

An unnatural silence comes over the room once more as the door opens again, four people emerging through it this time. “Here’re the rest of your playmates,” Bobby announces, too loud for the dead silent room. “Take a good look and then git your asses over to the couch. Jody and I are gonna tell you what’s happening next.”

There’s barely any movement as everyone stares at the two men standing behind Bobby. Someone in the room actually lets out a squeak. Castiel really can’t say he blames them. One figure is impossibly tall, with brown shaggy hair and a polite smile, while the other, though slightly shorter, would still be considered tall by normal standards. Castiel can see a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, but disappointingly can’t make out the color of his eyes.

“This is gonna be a hell of a time if you all don’t learn to listen,” Bobby says mildly, nudging the shorter man to get him to move towards the couch. Instantly there’s a flurry of movement as everyone moves from one end of the room to the other, finding somewhere to sit on the couch, whether it be an armrest or a cushion. Castiel ends up being squished between the end of the couch and Anna while Freckles, disappointingly, finds a space between the tall guy and a pretty brunette.

“Geez, what a hottie,” Anna says under her breath. Castiel refrains from asking her who she’s talking about, preferring to immerse himself in unsavory fantasies instead.

Bobby and Jody stand before them, Jody with a wide smile and Bobby a subtle scowl. “Alright guys, now that you’re settled,” Jody says. “I’m Jody, once more for those of you who never caught it or forgot, and this is Bobby. Get used to our faces, you’ll be seeing them a lot. You’re all just lucky we’re so pleasing to look at.”

“I got a face like an angel,” Bobby agrees to a few laughs.

“Don’t encourage him, please. Raise of hands, who’s seen our show before?”

A majority of the room raises their hands, though Castiel notices the two newcomers are among those that don’t.

“Alright, so a lot of the stuff you hear is going to sound repetitive. Just bear with us, it’s mostly for the viewers. But don’t tune out either, some stuff may have changed from last season, and those of you who don’t know what’s going on need to pay special attention, okay? The show’s not too hard to understand, but if one of you fucks up chances are you’ll all fuck up.”

"What about the true love part?” a petite blonde girl squeals. Castiel imagines he can see her vibrating in her seat, like an overexcited Chihuahua. “That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“Of course,” Jody smiles, but Bobby interrupts her.

“Our job is to make a good show. You kids handle what you do on your own.”

 Jody’s smile has quickly turns into a frown, and she shakes her head. “Bobby’s a bit of a cynic. This show is based on romantically pairing people up, and of course we want to help as many of you as we can to find your match. Please just remember that this is a TV show. TV is not real life.”

“Getting some major Umbridge vibes there,” Charlie murmurs.

“What the devil is she talking about?” Balthazar whispers to Castiel.

“Jody is encouraging us to make romantic connections but warning us that the show will interfere if ratings become a problem.”

“I meant the nerd-speak,” he says softly, leaning away from Castiel and back into his seat.

Castiel shakes his head, turning fully back to Jody and resolving to ignore Balthazar.

“I’m sure all of you have guessed that the first thing we need to do is pick partners,” she’s saying. “We do all that on camera. The stuff you’re wearing is fine, so I wouldn’t worry about it. Uniform workout clothes will be provided to you for the challenges, but you’ll get a chance to dress up at the Couple’s Choice Ceremonies.”

“Yeah yeah, make sure you visit the make-up trailer,” Bobby interjects. “On to the important shit. Last year the guys got to pick their partners, so this year it’s gonna be the girls.”

“Wait, what?”

Castiel turns his head to stare at Freckles, along with everyone else in the room. “Shut up man,” his friend whispers.

“You got something to say Dean?” Bobby asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Dean frowns. Castiel watches with interest as his eyes crinkle. “This show’s what, three years old? So you’re saying somehow the girls got to pick the first year, then the guys last year and now girls again right?”

“Yeah…” he says slowly, looking confused.

“Well how was that decided?”

“We had a little competition first season,” Jody answers. “The girls won that one.”

“So let me get this straight,” Dean says. “I don’t get the opportunity to have a chance of picking my partner, because the guys in season one lost?”

“It does seem kinda unfair when it’s put that way,” a bearded man leaning over the back of the couch speaks up.

“Too bad,” the girl Castiel remembers as Meg smirks, craning her neck to peer at him from around the girl next to her. “It’s a girl’s year. Haven’t you boys ever heard of taking turns?”

Jody’s murmuring to Bobby, who’s frowning through his beard. But frowning seems to be a standard expression for Bobby, so Castiel’s not sure it’s related to whatever Jody is telling him.

A debate is opening around him, some of the men talking over a few of the more adamant girls, while the rest of the group stays relatively silent, only adding a comment or two. Castiel decides he’s going stay out of it, he couldn’t care less whether or not he gets pick his partner.

“Alright, alright, quit year whining,” Bobby says, pulling away from Jody and raising his voice to be heard over the argument. “The producer’s on a plane and won’t be showing up for a while, so we can’t ask him what he wants to do, but we can’t hold filming either. Jody seems to think it’ll work out though, so we’ll have a competition for you idjits. Sound good?”

“No,” the girl named Jess wrinkles her nose. “It sounds like you’re taking away something that was originally ours.”

Bobby groans and slips his beat up trucker hat off his head to run a hand over his thinning hair.

“Come on guys, it’ll be fun,” Jody encourages. “And this way is better anyway. You can have your competition and whichever team wins gets to choose their partners fair and square.”

“If it means I can get out of this room,” a blonde man says in apparent boredom. “What’s the competition?”

Bobby plops his hat back onto his head and looks expectantly at Jody.

"Oh,” she frowned. “Well…”

“Everyone strip,” a voice from the doorway says. “Whoever’s nude first wins.”

Castiel has to lean back to see around Jody and catch a glimpse of a short man sucking on a lollipop.

“What’s the deal anyway?” he continues. “I’ve been waiting out there forever for you to call my name.”

“I told ya Gabriel, I ain’t your damn MC,” Bobby says. “You coulda stayed in the hallway.”

“Everyone, this is Gabriel Milton, the host of the show,” Jody announces, gesturing at him.

“Wow, you’re a bunch of lookers, aren’t you?” Gabriel asks, studying them carefully. His eyes meet Castiel’s and he winks before turning back to Jody. “So what’s taking so long? I thought we were filming today.”

“We are, we’ve just added a small segment. They want to compete for the right to choose their partner.”

“Oh yeah, competition.” He crunches down on his lollipop, chewing loudly as he thinks. “They could play Pictionary or something.”

“I’d tune in for that,” Bobby mutters sarcastically.

“Strip poker?”

“Uh, I’ve got an idea,” Dean’s friend speaks up. “What if we had a relay race or…you know. That way it’s a team effort.”

Gabriel’s eyes light up and he grins. “I like the way you think kid. What’s your name?”

“Sam,” he replies, shifting slightly on the couch and bumping into the girl next to him in the process. She shoots him a coy smile.

“Well Sam, we’re gonna do that,” he says proudly, like Sam is his son and had just discovered the cure for cancer. “Jody, you’re the production manager. Go produce, chop, chop. Bobby, get your camera monkeys ready.

"All of you,” Gabriel looks at the couch. “Go get in appropriate clothes. Don’t cry missy, I can see your lip wobbling. Save the fancy stuff for our choosing ceremonies, unless you want to sweat in your prom dresses. Everyone understand? Did I speak slow enough?”

They all stare at him dumbly until he suddenly snaps his fingers. Castiel watches as if by magic they all climb off the couch at once and he decides he might as well too, following them back out into the hallway. Jody assures them their suitcases are piled in the closet down the hall and that they could change in the bathrooms before she disappears.

Castiel follows behind Dean, who’s talking animatedly in a low voice to Sam.      

Alright, so he definitely isn’t here for a relationship, and a loud, outspoken, beautiful man with freckles isn’t going to change that. That doesn’t mean he can’t try to get him into bed though.

***

“I’m going to need to know everybody’s name before we start shooting,” Gabriel says loudly, and thank god. Dean’s brain is getting pretty tired of creating brilliant nicknames for people like ‘the dude in the hat’.

“We showed you their audition tapes,” Jody reminds him.

He waves his hand. “Irrelevant. I didn’t watch them.”

Man, this guy is an asshole. Hopefully he acts differently on camera, or Dean’s gonna have a hard time not punching him.

“Dick,” Sam mutters from next to him. Not for the first time, Dean wonders what Sam sold for his mind reading powers and where he could get some. Without all the emotional crap and sad eyes Sam usually displays whenever he uses his super powers.

Speaking of super powers, he has a super powered wedgie right now. Probably because he’s being fucking forced to wear shorts. Dean’s never been all too comfortable with his bow legs, but he’s never said anything out loud, so it makes sense Sam wouldn’t have thought to warn him about this. Still though, he doesn’t think he’s worn anything but jeans since he’d entered middle school and started skipping gym. Shifting uncomfortably, he tries to pay attention to Gabriel.

“You,” Gabriel points to the guy closest to him, who just happened to be dude in the hat. Except his hat was gone now, because they were in workout gear, but whatever. “Name.”

“Benny,” the guy drawls with a slight southern tang. “I’m a Virgo, if that helps us get better acquainted.”

“Hmm, maybe later big boy,” Gabriel tilts his head at the girl next to Benny. “Well? You guys are big kids. Don’t make me keep saying next.”

So it continues until they reach Sam on Dean’s right. Only two people had really caught his attention before that point, a dark haired girl named Lisa whose tight yoga pants fit her extremely well and a tall blonde who called himself Luke and was paying Sam the kind of attention that made Dean’s protective big brother instincts start acting up.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” Sam nods in greeting and yup, he’s not being paranoid. Luke’s directing a smug smile at Sam.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean says quickly, notching he garners a few interested looks of his own.

He turns to watch the two red heads next to him introduce themselves (Anna and Charlie, and Charlie makes the fucking Star Trek sign in greeting. Dean will never admit how fucking cool he thinks that is). Balthazar is now introducing himself, but Dean’s been suddenly caught up in the blue eyed lazar gaze of the man next to the Brit.

They’re not just blue eyes blue either, they’re like if the sky and the ocean fucked and had a baby blue. Deep and pure and insane. Which is unsettling enough, but the guy’s got a really intense stare, and it brings him from ‘protective big brother mode’ to ‘tight in his pants mode’ in about two seconds flat.

Blue Eyes turns away from Dean to face Gabriel and declares, “I’m Castiel.” Dean barely has enough time to register that that’s supposed to be a _name_ before Gabriel is gesturing at the camera men standing off to the side. It’s Ed and Harry again, although this time Harry is holding a clipboard and the dreaded boom mike is nowhere in sight.

“Bobby’s got these guys everywhere,” Gabriel announces. “They’re going to start filming when we get to the race area. I just want you guys to remember that you’re on camera. If you’re gonna do something embarrassing, it’s going to be included on the show, so make it count, alright?

“We’re getting away from the building, obviously,” he continues. “We’re supposed to be in the wild after all. Just remember this is the camera free zone.”

“Dude, you think they keep stressing the camera free zones to let us know it’s cool to have sex here?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “No. It’s for phone calls and stuff Dean. They’re reminding us not to ruin the illusion.”

Dean sighs. “TV is a lie. There’s no one left I can trust.”

Gabriel shouts, “COME ON!” at the top of his lungs and takes off through the trees down a path leading south, so Dean assumes that means they’re all supposed to follow him.

Meanwhile, Sam’s smirking. “This coming from a man who watches porn more than anything else.”

"Hey, as long as everything looks real enough, I’m fine.”

“I’m not going any further with that,” Sam says in a disgusted voice, although he looks happy. Dean hasn’t been joking or laughing much lately, and he feels bad for making Sam live with his shitty mood for so long. He doesn’t know how to make up for it and he’s not sure how to stop his mood from being shitty. But Sam thinks this stupid game show will work, and if it makes Sammy happy it’s fine with him.

Whatever, Dean’s main objective here is to avoid any long-lasting humiliation (the contractors he occasionally worked with were already gonna give him hell if they ever find out about this) and to find Sam a girlfriend. After that, whatever happens he’s cool with.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Dean turns in surprise to find one of the blondes – Becky, he thinks – gazing adoringly at Sam, even though he’s pretty sure she meant the straight from a travel brochure scenery they’re walking through.

Sam, the poor clueless bastard, nods enthusiastically. “Have you ever been here before? Dean and I traveled a lot when we were little, but we never left the country, and most of it wasn’t as nice as it is here.”

“No, but I’m so happy I’m here now,” she sighs, falling into step beside Sam and laying a hand on his bicep. “You seem like you’d make a great partner.”

“Oh, um…”

“Becky’s a little intense, isn’t she?”

Jo -Dean remembers her because she’s got the same kind of look about her that the girls he sees at the shooting range do; self assured and taking no crap- is smiling at him, and Dean automatically gives her a once over. She’s pretty, but a little young, and he smiles back easily.

"Eh, Sammy can handle it. He still goes to college, I’m sure that’s much worse.”

Jo laughs. “All I know is a couple of the other girls were talking about who they wanted to partner up with, and he was pretty high on all their lists.”

“Really?” Dean grins suggestively. “What about me?”

“You’re without doubt at the top of mine.”

Her answer is so guileless and her expression so open that Dean pulls back immediately. “Definitely a bad choice,” he says, looking ahead to see that they’re coming up on a beautiful enclosed area. They’d already passed a few cabins and he could make out a huge pool with an elaborate looking veranda set beside it. “I uh, work best alone. Most of you will just get in my way.”

“Oh,” she says shortly, quickly falling back. If he turns his head slightly he can already see her talking to Bela and Anna, all three of them looking indignant.

“Really Dean?” Sam breathes. Becky’s still nattering away next to him, but obviously he’s only been paying her a minimal amount of attention. “We haven’t even started filming yet.”

Dean just shrugs, muttering, “Too eager. She’s just a kid.” He’s not here to fuck around with people’s hearts. Maybe avoiding everyone would get him sent home because nobody wanted to deal with his sorry ass.

“Gather around children!” Gabriel calls. He’s standing at the very edge of the pool, and one good push would get him wet. Dean has never been more tempted in his life.

He waits for them to end up circled around him before speaking again. “You good Bobby?”

Bobby must give the affirmative from wherever the hell he is, because all of a sudden there are cameras pointing at them from literally all directions, and Gabriel has a big, plastic smile on his face.

“Alright guys and gals, my name is Gabriel Milton, and I’ll be your host on this little love adventure. I know you have a lot of questions about the show, but first it’s time to decide which gender gets the esteemed honor of choosing their own partner, and to figure it out we’re gonna have ourselves a little relay race. You see the pool behind me? That’s your track. Each one of you needs to complete a lap, and whichever team finishes first wins the battle of the sexes and gets official bragging rights.”

“This sounds incredibly boring,” Meg sighs.

“Hey, it’s a five minute set up. Beggars can’t be choosers, darling.”

“We’re not in swimsuits,” Kevin speaks up.

“Great observation kiddo! Go ahead and keep your clothes on, take ‘em off…whatever you feel like, we don’t discriminate here.” Gabriel bounces on the balls of his feet a little, pointing to the far end of the pool. “All of you line up down there. I’ll give you two minutes to discuss strategy, and then we’ll get this show on the road.”

Dean quickly yanks his shirt over his head as he follows everyone to their starting places, because like hell is he going to swim in that. He notices all of the other guys are doing the same, and most of the girls, led by Bela and Ruby, are taking off at least their shirts to reveal sports bras.

“Huddle up,” Victor’s saying, his tone taking on a naturally authoritative note. “Who here is a good swimmer?”

"I was on my high school swim team,” Kevin volunteers. Benny also raises his hand, along with Gordon, Sam and Castiel, whose eyes looked even brighter in the direct sunlight. Dean resolutely keeps his hand down. He’d taught himself to keep his head above the water and stopped there – swimming a lap where speed counted was going to be a whole different story.

Victor quickly assesses everybody’s level of fitness and talent for swimming before rattling off the order. “Alright, so the plan is to stagger the talent with a heavy emphasis on the last half. We got Chuck, Luke, Balthazar, me, Sam, Benny, Gordon, Castiel, Kevin, and Dean.”

“Woah, wait, you sure you want me bringing up the rear?” Dean asks.

“Relax, you’ve got Kevin right before you and Cas is a runner, he should’ve gained a lead to begin with. We’ll be fine.”

“Time’s up!” Gabriel hollers. Dean is beginning to think Gabriel has taken this job purely to listen to the sound of his own voice.

 Victor pats Chuck on the shoulder. “You’re up man.”

“Yeah. I got this,” Chuck nods, looking anxious. Dean hopes he doesn’t have a nervous breakdown or something. He seems the type.

It looks like he’s racing against Becky though, so hopefully she won’t be too much of a problem for him.

“Rules are simple folks,” Gabriel says, voice traveling clear and loud across the pool. “Swim to me, touch the wall, swim back and tag the next person in line. Cool? We all ready?” he barley pauses to wait for any response before yelling, “Ok, on your marks…get set…go!”

Chuck has terrible reflexes, Dean notes mildly. By the time he realizes what’s happening Becky is already in the water, and really, with that kind of start, it can only go downhill from here.

Sam, Benny and Gordon do a pretty good job of catching them up, but it turns out Lisa should have been an Olympian, and Ruby and Bela are more than capable of keeping the girls ahead of all the men.

So naturally when it’s Dean’s turn, he dives in without a second thought.

“Wait Dean – no!” Sam yells, but it’s already too late.

The last thing he sees is a surprised pair of blue eyes.

***

It’d be understating it to say that Castiel is surprised when Dean dives off the pool at the same time as Kevin. He knows it’s not his turn, right? Cas attempts to move out of the way after slapping the younger man’s outstretched hand from the water, but that unfortunately moves him right into Dean’s path.

Bracing himself for impact, he’s able to maneuver just enough that Dean only really plows into his shoulder, probably hurting himself more than he hurts Castiel.

"That was kind of stupid, wasn’t it?” Castiel asks plainly when Dean emerges from the water, sputtering.

Dean’s widened green eyes quickly narrow in accusation as he takes Castiel in. “Cas, what the fuck?” he asks finally.

“You jumped too early,” Castiel explains, shrugging. “I tried to move as much as I could so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Did I end up hurting you?”

“I – what? No!” he says defensively. “You didn’t hurt me. Did I hurt you?”

Castiel’s look turns smug. “No, of course not. If that was where this relationship was going, we’d need a safe word.”

Kevin has by now returned from doing his lap and brushes between the two of them. “Break it up you guys. I think we lost.”

“Fucking great,” Dean mutters, edging over to the side of the pool. Gabriel is there to meet them as they all climb out, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “Very graceful Dean,” he smiles. “Unfortunately, you guys lost. Looks like it’s going to be girl’s choice.”

“Not really the best use of our time when most of us are half naked, was it?” Luke tsks, sending Sam an appreciative look. “I can think of better things.”

“Yeah thanks for suggesting a competition Dean,” Ruby chimes in, grinning. “We had a really great time kicking your collective asses.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” Dean smiles sarcastically, a bitter twist to his lips.

Sam pats his brother on the back as Gabriel begins giving directions again, lining them up in two straight lines. The women facing the man, Gabriel passes a coconut shell down the line of girls, explaining that the number on the slip of paper they choose corresponds to the order they get to pick their partner in. When they picked their partner, they were to tie a leather bracelet that matched their own around his wrist. “Choose wisely,” he advises, waggling his eyebrows. “You and your partner get to share a bed.”

“I feel like a bloody pig going to slaughter,” Balthazar murmurs from next to Castiel. He catches a couple of muttered words from Chuck about high school gym class and other disgruntled grumbles all down the line. On his other side Dean is standing straight like a soldier, lips pursed and looking straight ahead, though the water dripping from his hair and down his nose kind of ruins the effect.

“Do you think perhaps we should twirl around so they can see us from all angles?” Castiel asks quietly, leaning a little closer to him. He’d swear Dean’s lips twitch, and Balthazar lets out a loud snort.

Anna manages to get the slip with the number one on it, choosing Victor as her partner with little hesitation. Cas watches with a detached sort of interest as Jo chooses Benny and Bela chooses Balthazar, to which he shoots Castiel an excited leer before going off to stand next to her.

“Becky?” Gabriel prompts. “You’re up. Pick your man candy.”

“Sam, I want Sam,” she says immediately, pointing as if to make absolutely sure everyone knows who she’s talking about. Sam groans quietly and Dean claps him on the shoulder with a sympathetic grimace.

“Like a match made in heaven,” Gabriel smiles. “Charlie?”

“Actually,” Charlie says, hands fluttering at her sides in a vaguely nervous motion. “I just um, wanted to say, that I’m gay, and I was kind of disappointed with this show’s need to group the sexes in such a heteronormative way and…yeah. Ruby, would you like to be my partner?”

“Oh hell yeah I would!” Ruby grins brightly, grabbing Charlie’s hand and pulling her to stand over by the other couples.

“Think they’re gonna let her do that?”

Castiel glances at Dean and shrugs noncommittally at his question. "I’m not sure they have much of a choice.”

And indeed, Gabriel only glances off towards Jody briefly before, ignoring whatever signals she’s making at him, he continues to let Meg choose Gordon and Gilda choose Kevin. Castiel’s actually rather impressed with how unfazed most everyone seems by Charlie’s declaration. Gordon, who’s standing next to the pair, does have a nasty look on his face, but Cas is unsure how much of it is bigotry and how much is due to his personality.

Honestly, he’s rather relieved. He hadn’t been expected to be allowed to partner with men here – now at least he might be able to have some fun along with his promotional work.

Luke ends up going off with Jess, and there’s a quiet, “Damn,” from Dean when Lisa decides on Chuck.

The grin Gabriel is directing at them is verging on maniacal, and Cas has to wonder if the swear from Dean was because he isn’t going to be partnered with Lisa or because he now has to be partnered with –

“Looks like you two get to be the token gays!”


	3. Chapter 2

Sam supposes he should have seen this coming.

Bring Dean onto a show specifically designed to get him a girlfriend, and his brother ends up partnered with a man, at least for this next round. But knowing Dean, he’d use it as an excuse to avoid making any serious connections with the women.

Unfortunately he didn’t have time to speak to his brother after they finished filming. Jody hastily explains that there are cabins for each of them and that their names are already hung on the doors and their luggage inside. They’re meant to sleep in the same cabin as their partners, the usual format of the show. Dinner would be sent to them, and the cameras would come in after, but she just wanted them to stay in their cabins. She then dragged Gabriel away, barking frantically into her walkie talkie with Bobby trailing after them, looking fed up with everything.

Sam was sure to send Charlie a huge smile before multiple PAs descended upon them to lead them away, since he thinks what she did was pretty great in terms of sticking up for who she is. He just wishes her happiness didn’t have to come at the expense of Dean’s chance at some.

“Can you believe we’re going to be in a cabin all night together?” Becky asks as they walk, looking way too excited for Sam’s comfort. “It’s almost like a date!”

“Erm, I guess you could look at it that way,” he concedes. “Or like, two friends on a camping trip together.”

“Ehhh,” she waves his words away like they’re an annoying fly, throwing open the cabin door with the names ‘Sam’ and ‘Becky’ carved into plaques and hanging beside it. She lets out a loud gasp and then a squeal, turning to look at him with bright eyes. “There’s only one bed!”

Sam backs away slowly. “I’m uh, gonna go check on Dean.”

***

“So,” Dean glances around their small cabin, eyes skimming over the large bed and the small bathroom off to the left. Two suitcases are tucked into the corner, one of them his. “What should we do now?”

Castiel grabs his suitcase and sets it at the foot of the bed, dumping a few things out as he rummages for something. “Sleep together, I’m guessing,” he lifts an eyebrow, and woah, now that Dean’s got time to listen he realizes Cas has a really deep voice, all raspy and shit. If he can ignore the sarcasm all the voice does is up the sex appeal. “That is how these things go, isn’t it? Unless I hurt your shoulder too much.”  

“You didn’t hurt my shoulder,” he insists heatedly, taking a deep breath. As he watches Cas, his eyes light on a small black box that has fallen out along with some of his things. “Hey. Is that Cards Against Humanity?”

Cas stops looking through his bag for whatever it was he’s searching for and lifts his head, nodding slowly.

“ _Dude._ ”

***

He doesn’t really know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

Dean is standing on the bed in his socks, what looks like playing cards jumping around his feet as he bounces lightly. His shirt is unbuttoned to reveal his T-shirt and his hair is ruffled, like he’s been running his hands through it. He’s brandishing two cards at Cas, who’s pacing the floor below and whose hair looks just as messed up.

“I’m telling you,’ Lifetime presents The Big Bang, the story of an erection that lasts more than four hours’ is _way_ funnier than ‘Lifetime presents Two Slinkys, the story of surprise sex’! What does that even _mean_?”

“Do you need me to teach basic human anatomy to you Dean? It’s gay sex, I could easily arrange a demonstration. Besides which, the rules state that it is my turn to choose the best phrase, and mine is clearly superior—“

“Dude, yours is all weird and shit. Fuck the rules, mine is way better!”

Sam watches as Castiel marches right up to the bed, pulling Dean down to his level by grabbing one of the open flaps of his shirt and glaring at him. “You are the most pigheaded—“

“Hey guys!” Sam says, voice bright and loud. “Just thought I’d drop by. What are you up to?”

Cas glances at him in surprise and leans away from Dean, who grins as he uses Cas’ shoulder to jump off the bed, patting him condescendingly. Cas shoots him a look of annoyance. “Sammy! Have you met Cas yet? We’re playing Cards Against Humanity. Hey, I gotta ask you for an opinion, which one is funnier—“

“I heard them,” he interrupts. Sam glances at Cas, who seems uninterested in the whole conversation now that he isn’t yelling at Dean. “They’re both pretty clever, I guess.”

“That’s a cop out,” Cas says matter-of-factly, apparently tuning back in. “But since it was my turn, I still won.”

"Aw, fuck it, fine,” Dean grumbles, throwing his cards onto the bed so that they land among the rest. “What’s up Sam? You need something?”

"I just wanted to check up on you,” he says, looking around the room. It’s in disarray, Dean’s boots thrown onto his open suitcase and Cas’ card game mixed among his personal belongings on the bed. “You’ve been in here like…ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I guess it could be cleaner,” he says sheepishly, following Sam’s gaze.

“I thought this was our cabin,” Castiel speaks up, and Sam has a feeling he’s genuinely making a point rather than bitching. Cas begins gathering up the cards in two separate piles, one of black and one of white. “You can complain if we’re ever partners.”

“Quit being a jackass,” Dean scowls and that’s…interesting. Dean plays up the big brother card around Sam, but he definitely knows that he can handle himself and usually leaves him to it. Cas hadn’t been any worse than Dean usually is anyway, so there’s really no reason to be glowering at him like that. Which means Dean is being intentionally antagonistic, and that means…

Aw _fuck_. Dean wants to sleep with him.

It’s not like Sam is going to stop Dean from having sex or anything. That’s basically why he brought him here in the first place. But for Dean, sex with men is always only ever sex, and Sam would really prefer that Dean create a more meaningful relationship.

There’s a knock on the door and Sam opens it quickly, looking for any kind of distraction. A small PA is standing there, headset hanging around her neck and a pizza box in her hands. “Oh. Isn’t this Dean and Castiel’s cabin?”

“Hello Rachel,” Cas greets from behind Sam, smirking slightly at her. “Were you looking for me?”             

“I brought your dinner,” she says happily, holding the pizza box out, then thinking better of it as she shoulders past Sam into the cabin. “Sorry Sam, your food is in your cabin, where you’re supposed to be.”

He ignores the subtle dig, choosing to smile at her instead. “That’s fine, I’m sure it’ll be there when I get back.”

“Can I sit down?”

“Lady you brought pizza, have a seat,” Dean says, taking the box from her and opening it. “Really, only cheese?”

"Everybody got cheese, we weren’t sure what preferences were.”

“Cheese is the best kind of pizza,” Cas adds accusingly, as if it personally offends him that Dean doesn’t see the value in plain pizza. Reaching over Dean’s arm he pulls out a slice, gooey cheese strings trailing over the arm of Dean’s shirt in the process.

“Dude, this is my favorite shirt!” he protests loudly.

“Not that this is my cabin,” Sam says, watching Rachel watch Cas and Dean. “But was there anything you needed to say?”

Rachel turns to him, eyes slightly narrowed. “I did actually, and I suppose since you’re in here I’ll tell you too, though I really only meant to tell Cas.”

"You can go ahead and tell me anyway,” Cas says, taking a bite of pizza. “I doubt they’ll make any use of it.”

“Right. Well earlier it kinda seemed like, you uh, wanted information and then…you kinda implied…anyway, uh, this directly affects you, so I thought you’d like to know. Word around set is, there’s going to be a meeting with Crowley.”

“S’that like a code name or s’mthing?” Dean asks, his mouth full of pizza.

Rachel grimaces at him. “Crowley is the Executive producer of the show. He was heading to set anyway, but the whole thing with that lesbian girl—“

“Charlie,” all three men say at the same time.

“—right, Charlie. Well she didn’t say she was a lesbian in her audition tape, I guess so she could get on the show in the first place, and they have to decide what they want to do, you know? They might not keep what you filmed today, which means it’d have to be redone and everybody would get new partners.”

A sudden thought crosses Sam’s mind. “They wouldn’t kick her off, would they?”

“I betcha she’d leave anyway, if they’re not gonna let her partner up with a chick,” Dean supplies with a rare moment of insightfulness. “Which is dumb.” His lips take on a bitter twist. “But you know how people can get.”

"They can be unnaturally cruel,” Cas agrees, frowning slightly at Dean.

“So that’s it?” Sam asks, looking back down at Rachel on the bed. “They’re just going to decide what to do with the show?”

“Pretty much. It has the potential to be a big deal in whichever direction though, doesn’t it? Either your guys’ entire experience is shaken up and we get a bad rap or _Love in the Wild_ becomes one of the first dating game shows to encourage both homosexual and heterosexual couples.” She stands up, shrugging slightly. “Just thought it might interest you.”

“It does, thank you,” Castiel says seriously, moving closer and placing a hand on her arm. “And I’d appreciate if you continued to come to me with this kind of information.”

“I think I can do that without too much trouble,” she smiles coyly up at him. “No one’s told me _not_ to tell you this stuff. But Sam, you really do have to go back to your cabin now, I’ll get in trouble if anyone knows I found you in here and didn’t send you back. You’re supposed to be getting to know Becky.”

Sam sighs and opens the door for her. “Yeah, alright. Night Dean, Cas. See you in the morning.”

Dean smirks at him as Cas turns back to the pizza. “Have fun tonight Sammy,” he winks.

Sam gets the last words though, right before the door shuts on his brother’s smug face. “You too, Dean.”

  ***

“Seriously?” Dean asks in disbelief, rounding on Cas as soon as the door is closed.

“What?” Cas asks innocently, licking grease off the tips of his fingers.

Dean does his best to ignore him. “Were you flirting with that girl? For information? That’s got to be some form of prostitution or something.”

“So?” he asks, standing up and making his way over to Dean. “What do you care? Unless you’re interested,” he smirks, crossing his arms. “Besides, if we’re calling it prostitution, you couldn’t pay anyway.”

“It’s—it just—it can’t work like that!” Dean sputters.

Cas levels him with a stare. “It’s a game Dean. Games are strategy, and I’m good at strategy. Therefore, let me strategize.”

He shakes his head, flopping down onto the bed. “Geez, you’re a heartless bastard, aren’t you? I don’t suppose all your strategizing could help me get out of here without any emotional attachments, could it?”

“I could try, but I’m not promising anything. My plans tend to revolve around me.”

“Great, so I gotta keep you as a partner if I want your noggin as an advantage, or whatever?”

“If you can keep me,” Castiel shrugs. “I might go to someone else.”

“Awesome,” Dean sighs, throwing his forearm over his eyes. “Great.”

***

The promised cameras never appeared last night, which Castiel is grateful for. He couldn’t get Dean onto the bed no matter how hard he tried, and if the stubborn bastard was going to insist on taking the floor, he wasn’t going to say no to a comfy mattress. It would’ve been embarrassing though, to have that on TV, and next time he’ll put more of an effort into acting like he’s playing nice so Dean will consent to share.

Unfortunately, since Dean is still asleep when Cas gets up, he manages to accidentally kick him on his way to the bathroom. “Wa’?” he mumbles, burying his head in the pillow he’d taken. “Wa’ time s’it?”

“Shh,” Castiel whispers. “I didn’t mean to kick you. Go back to sleep.”

There’s a knock on the door and Dean gives a loud groan, which Castiel enjoys immensely.

“Call time’s at eight guys!” Rachel sings cheerfully through the door.

“Never mind, get up now,” he says, nudging Dean in the side with his foot. “But I get to shower first.”

He hurries into the bathroom and ends up having a quick shower. It’s unfortunate, but apparently the show’s amenities don’t extend to giving everyone warm water. His clothes are still in the main room though, so he does get to experience the pleasure of seeing Dean’s slack jawed look when he walks out in just a towel.

“Dude, put on a shirt,” he says, hiding his face back in his pillow.

Castiel smiles to himself. “If you insist,” he replies, pulling on the shorts from yesterday and then standing there, waiting. It only takes a couple of seconds for Dean to peek up from the pillow, and his eyebrows meet in a scowl when he sees Castiel looking at him. “Thought I told you to put on a shirt.”

"You’re just upset because I caught you staring,” he points out serenely. “Appreciating the male form is nothing to be afraid of Dean.”

Dean rolls to his side and onto his feet, grabbing his workout clothes from on top of his suitcase. “You better be dressed when I come back,” is all he says, pointing his clothes at him before disappearing into the bathroom.

Castiel briefly considers keeping his shirt off to see just how flustered Dean can get, but ultimately decides against it, slipping the shirt on over his head. It’s only day one, after all, and he doesn’t want his flirtation with Dean to be over before it’s even started.

Looking around the cabin, he decides there’s probably enough room to do his morning stretches.

“So a tattoo, huh?” he hears Dean say when the bathroom door opens. “Why did you…uh. Cas?”

“Over here,” he grunts from the other side of the bed. His forearms braced on the ground, he slowly lifts his body and curls his legs back towards his head.

“Jesus Christ.” Dean stands right in front of him, wide eyed. “Isn’t that hard?”

“Very,” he says, voice a little strained as he safely lowers his legs back onto the ground. “It’s also very good for you.”

“Your stomach muscles must be ridiculous.”

“You may feel them if it’ll further your education.”

“No thanks,” he says, taking a step back and looking around. He brings his hand to the back of his neck. “So. Tattoo.”

“Yes,” Castiel stands up. “I have one. We should really get going, it’s quarter to.”

“Ok,” Dean says, following Castiel out the door of their cabin and into the sun. “Do you know where we’re supposed to be going?”

“Dean!” Sam cries out, the relief in his voice palpable. He’s standing with them in seconds, and Castiel notes that he looks tired, like he hasn’t gotten much sleep. “Thank god I found you.”

“Sammy, you sly dog. Can’t wait to tell me all about your night, huh?”

“Don’t even joke,” he hisses, looking around. “She might hear you.”

“Something wrong Sam?” Castiel asks with amusement.

“Becky. Becky is wrong. I insisted on sleeping on the floor last night, but then when I wake up at like two am she was down there with me! What the fuck?”

“Sounds like she wanted to snuggle, Sam. Hardly anything to go all Annie Wilkes over.”

“Dean, she’s seriously fanatic,” Sam says, keeping his voice low. “She’s convinced you and Cas are deeply in love and about ten seconds away from announcing your marriage. And she’s got the same idea about at least three other couples here. I had to tell her I was coming to talk to you privately to give you advice about Cas to get away, and even then I had a hard time convincing her not to come with.”

“Maybe she’s right,” Castiel offers.

Sam and Dean both look at him. “What?”

“The couples,” he shrugs. “Some people with the heightened sensibilities Becky seems to enjoy are very perceptive. Perhaps her observations are correct and her personality is just making her naturally overexcited.”

Sam continues to look at him in disbelief as Dean bursts out laughing. “Yeah, alright there Gandhi. Should we ask her to be flower girl now, or you wanna wait for me to pop the question first?”

“I’ll wait.”

“Hey, do you know where we’re going Sam?” Dean asks, looking around. “Because I’ve just been following you.”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be meeting down by the river,” Sam nods to the trees. “It’s just through there.”

The sound of voices grow louder along with the sound of running water as the three carefully pick their way through the trees, trying not to stumble over bumps in the ground. “Think they could have picked a place harder to get to?” Dean grumbles as they finally come into sight of everybody in a straight line. There’s a backpack at each couple’s feet, with an extra one and a frantically waving Becky towards the end of the line.

“Glad you could finally make it boys.” A new man stands in front of the group with Bobby and Jody, dressed in a crisp black suit despite the heat. Castiel thinks he looks incredibly smarmy and is instantly on guard. He’s almost an exact replica of the people who like to buy his paintings, as if someone had copied a rich New Yorker and then pasted him into the jungles of Costa Rica purely to make him miserable.

“My name is Crowley,” the man announces as soon as Dean, Sam and Castiel have fallen into line with the rest of the contestants. Castiel hopes Sam will earn himself sympathy points from the viewership for the distressed face he’s shooting at Dean, presumably being made because he now had to stand next to Becky, who wastes no time in slipping her arm through his.

"As far as this dump of a TV show is concerned, I am king,” Crowley continues. “As we all know, Ms. Bradbury decided to waste my time and my money yesterday by turning the show into her own personal Pride Parade. I’ve decided to allow it. But if any of you think to step out of line again, we are going to have a problem.” He pauses, eyeing them all before asking softly, “do I make myself clear?”

There are actually quite a few yeses in response, although Castiel keeps his mouth stubbornly shut and watches Dean mouth the word, “dick,” at Sam.

"I’ll let you get back to entertaining the masses with your stupidity and goo-goo eyes now,” Crowley sneers slightly, setting of back into the trees with a PA frantically following at his heels.

Jody steps forward, looking apologetic. “Sorry guys. Usually Crowley wouldn’t have any reason to talk to you, and he shouldn’t, anymore. Anyway, moving on with the show—“

“Weren’t there supposed to be cameras last night?” Ruby speaks up from her place beside Charlie.

“Usually the partner choosin’ and the first competition are on the same day,” Bobby says. “Crowley was unwilling to change the format, so we’re all pretending like last night never happened.”

“We are starting twenty-four seven shooting today though,” Jody adds, glancing behind them. “Starting right now, actually, since Gabriel has decided to grace us with his presence.”

“Aw, Jody, I didn’t realize you cared so much,” Gabriel says happily, patting Dean on the shoulder as he passes by. “What’s up Deano? Discovered the wonderful world of gay sex?”

“It’s quite an extensive world Gabriel,” Castiel responds before Dean can. “I was taking my time.”

Gabriel grins slowly, shooing Jody and Bobby away and taking their spot. “I knew I liked you Cas. The rest of you better start working for my affection, or Team Too Gay to Function here is gonna win it all.”

“That’s a Mean Girls reference,” Charlie points out.

“See? Charlie’s already joined the team, it’s that easy.”

“Boy, will you shut up?” Bobby asks. “You’re prattling on about nothing. I’m gonna start filming and if you waste this tape Crowley can take it outta your ass.”

“Alright, alright,” Gabriel waves his hand and pastes what Castiel has come to think of as his ‘host grin’ onto his face. “It’s time to get this show on the road! Each adventure I’m sending you on is designed to make you and your partner work together, which, you know, is the basis of any _good_ relationship. If it doesn’t work out on the adventures, the partnership’s probably not going to work out in real life. Pretty obvious,” he sighs, raising an eyebrow. “But if you do work well together and end up winning the adventure somehow, you and your lover get to spend the night in the Oasis, a swanky resort with a pool and a cook and everything. So my first word of advice would be to come in first place. My second word of advice? If you find out on the adventure that you don’t like your partner, dump ‘em and choose someone else afterwards. That’s allowed here, it’s like real life. Also just like in real life; if you’re the two losers nobody wants at the end of the night, you’re going home. Try not to be a loser, whoever’s still here at the end of the show gets a trip around the world in a couple months.”

He stops talking and looks around at then, sending Gordon a grin. “Buck up Gordo, you look like you swallowed a lemon.”

“What’d you say to me?”

“Are we supposed to be doing something here?” Chuck speaks up nervously.

“Nah. This is just where they’re gonna cut in all your sob stories during the editing process.”

“God dammit Gabriel!” Bobby yells. “Get on with it!”

Gabriel salutes into the distance and continues. “So I hope you’ve all noticed the giant backpacks at your feet, because if not lemme tell you, you should be looking for something other than love. Everything you need to complete your adventure is in that backpack. I’m going to give the signal and with your partner all of you are going to run through the trees behind me to the bank of the Puerta Viejo River and build a raft. There’s a map in your backpack that tells you where to go and exactly what to do, so read that, collect all three of the idol heads it’ll lead you to and then cross the finish line. I’ll be there waiting for you, which should be reward enough. The order you come in is going to determine the order in which you choose your new partners tomorrow night, so I’d recommend giving it the old college try. And uh, try not dunking each other in the river too much, you might disturb the crocodiles.”

Castiel is disturbed by the amount of women that looked interested at this fact, particularly Meg.

“I can tell by your excited faces that you’re all ready to begin your adventure,” Gabriel says, a touch of sarcasm entering his voice. “So on my mark, get set…go!”

Castiel stoops and hauls the backpack at his feet onto his back, taking Dean’s hand despite his protests and pulling him into the jungle with everyone else.

“I know how to run Cas,” he complains, although he’s making no attempt to pull his hand away.

Castiel ignores him as the sound of rushing water grows louder and the hard dirt at their feet turns to soft silt. There are ten piles of logs and rope grouped along the bank of the river, which Castiel assumes is what they’re supposed to use to make their raft out of. He pulls Dean to the pile closest to them and looks down at the wet wood in disgust.

“Ah, this is easy,” Dean says happily. Castiel watches with interest as he immediately drops to his knees, lining the logs up lengthwise and placing a plank of wood horizontal on each end. He can see Sam and Becky further down the river, Becky hopping around in excitement, with Bela and Balthazar right next to them.

“Bela, dear, I highly doubt that knot is going to hold.”

“I’d have said the same thing if you had tied it. Luckily you didn’t, so shut up.”

“Cas?”

Castiel tears his attention away from the British soap opera taking place next to him and looks at Dean, who’s looking up at him expectantly. He’s looped the rope around both planks and all the logs, tying it securely to create a dinky little wooden raft. “This is actually pretty good,” Castiel says with mild surprise.

“Yeah, I like building things. We gonna go? Victor and Anna and Jo and Benny are already out there.”

So Dean is handy too, Castiel thinks as he helps Dean carry the raft and the paddles down to the river. Was it fair for somebody to be both beautiful and talented? It felt like some higher power was stacking the deck against him. “Would you like to be navigator?” he asks, pulling the plastic map out of the backpack.

“Hell no,” he says, pushing the raft into the water and walking into the river with no hesitation. “I’m always the driver. You sit in the front.”

Castiel dutifully walks into the river after him and somehow they manage to get up on their respective planks without tipping the raft, Castiel in front with the map out and Dean in the back. “Where are we going?” Dean asks as he sticks his paddle into the river.

“Travel east down the river until you reach the landing point. From there on you will need to travel north to the first challenge.”

“The map tell you that?”

“The map is providing me with incredibly detailed instructions,” Castiel replies, glancing at the large amount of writing located at the top corner of the page.

“Sounds good,” Dean grunts. “Cas, buddy, you’re gonna have to help me paddle.”

Castiel takes his paddle from where it lies across his knees and lifts his legs from the water, waiting to start stroking until he’s complimenting Dean, instead of working against him. They travel in silence for a few minutes, Castiel taking the opportunity to study the landscape intently. It’s gorgeous and vibrant, and he has absolutely no motivation to paint it.

“So, uh, what do you do?”

“Pardon me?” Castiel asks, twisting around to look at Dean.

Surprisingly there’s a flush on Dean’s cheeks. “We’re being filmed,” he shrugs slightly. “Might as well act like we’re trying to find potential, right?”

“Oh,” he faces forward again, settling back into the rhythm of paddling. “I’m an artist.”

“Woah, like a Salvador Dali artist? Or do you do caricatures down on the boardwalk?”

Castiel lets out a surprised laugh. “Mostly I paint, because that gets my work into galleries. But I enjoy sketching much more.”

“Why don’t you sketch then?” Dean asks curiously.

“It didn’t make money,” he says shortly. “So I sold my soul to the upper class and began painting. What do you do?”

“I’m a carpenter,” he replies, easily accepting the change in conversation.

“A carpenter who likes to build things?”

“I know. I’m an enigma.” Cas doesn’t have to turn around to know that Dean is grinning, his eyes probably glinting against the green background of the jungle. “Hey, Chuck and Lisa are behind us.”

“How far?” Castiel asks. He can see where they’re supposed to get off the river, two rafts clearly resting on the bank just a few feet away from them.

“I dunno man, a couple hundred yards.”

At that Cas abruptly drops into the water. “Come on. We’re supposed to go to shore right there.” Dean follows the direction he’s pointing in and follows him off the raft, helping him drag it through the water and up onto the bank.

“Where to now?” Dean asks, dusting off his hands and looking at him expectantly. Castiel takes the opportunity to stare at him and the soaked clothes clinging to his body. Dean has broader shoulders than him and is built with muscle Castiel now knows probably came from years of lifting wood and wielding tools.

“Earth to Cas?”

“This way,” he replies quickly, clearing his throat. Staring at Dean could wait until after they’d won.

***

“Sam, Dean and Cas just left.”

Well of course Dean would’ve figured out how to put a raft together quickly, he worked with wood for a living. There was no reason to be worried. Sam frowns down at the knot he was tying, trying to decide if it would hold the whole way down the river. This was crazy. He knows _how_ to put the damn thing together, it was actually doing it that was the issue…

“There go Lisa and Chuck,” Becky says. “Didn’t you ever take Boy Scouts?”

“No, I played soccer,” he sighs in frustration. There was no way he was going to fit on this thing.

“Oh, well, it’s cool if you want to take a while,” she gives a knowing smile. “Then we can be all alone at the back of the pack.”

“See you suckers later!” Ruby calls from the water, pulling herself onto her raft to join a laughing Charlie.

“Come along Balthazar,” Bela says briskly, dragging the front end of the raft.

"Love it when you speak to me like a small Maltese,” Balthazar replies, rolling his eyes at Sam as he passes. “It’s an incredible turn on.”

Sam groans in frustration, roughly tying another knot into place.

“Having a little trouble?”

Sam looks up at Luke, who’s watching him with a detached sort of interest. “I don’t think this is going to hold.”

“Probably not,” he agrees. “I see your partner is doing everything in her power to be as unhelpful as possible.”

“Hey!” Becky cries, glaring at Luke. “I don’t know how to tie a knot either.”

Luke smiles slightly at her. “Hmm. And I’m sure the wonderful view you’re getting of his flexing muscles is just an added bonus, yes? How very admirable of you, Becky.”

Her lips purse in a pout and she turns resolutely away from Luke. “Can we go now Sam?”

“No, we can’t.” Sam knows he’s being rude and he doesn’t care. The whole situation is pissing him off and he isn’t ready to go home yet. If somebody else is willing to get him out of this mess, he’s taking it. Glancing hopefully at Luke, he asks, “Are you offering to help? Because I’d be really grateful for just about anything.”

Luke brushes Sam’s hands away from the raft and begins quickly and efficiently tying knots.

“Oh hey, we’re ready to go Luke!” Jess calls from over by their raft, which is now waiting for them in the water. She smiles prettily at Sam when she catches him looking, and he feels his face spreading into a grin in return.

"All done,” Luke announces, handing the raft off to Becky. “Do you think you’ll be able to handle it from here, Sam?”

“Yeah, thanks Luke,” Sam gives him a grateful smile and woah, he’s a lot closer than he first thought. “So look, if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know right? As long as it doesn’t involve tying knots.” He laughs nervously as Luke’s eyes brighten.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says smoothly, smiling a little at him and leaning closer to murmur, “I’ll stall Jess so you two can go on ahead.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “You don’t have to…”

“I really don’t, but I, unlike Becky, have missed out on the chance of watching you from behind. That’s really rather unfair of you Sam,” Luke says candidly, pulling back and leaving just as quickly as he’d come.

Sam watches him walk away before turning back to Becky, who’s holding the raft and glaring. “So what, you like him better than me now?”

***

“It’s a snake pit,” Cas says flatly, staring down into the hole in front of them. The dirt path they’d followed had led them up a hill and through about a million trees before dumping them in a clearing with a large pit taking up most of the area.

“The chick’s supposed to go down there and get the idol head,” Dean grins, reading the sign nailed to a nearby tree. “You the chick Cas?”

Dean’s not too good at reading Cas’ facial expressions yet (they vary from deadpan to mildly interested) but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t find his joke amusing. He’s also pretty sure Cas isn’t getting in the snake pit.

“I don’t like snakes, Dean,” Cas replies, voice slightly strained.

“Alright Indy, I’ll be the chick this time,” Dean sighs, looking for a clear spot he can jump on without stepping on any snakes. He’s pretty sure none of them will actually hurt him, because it would be dumb to get a guy poisoned on the first episode of the season. But better safe than sorry. Sammy must be rubbing off on him.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Cas mutters, watching Dean drop and squatting so he can see better. He looks so damn serious about the whole thing Dean kind of wants to rile him up. Except pretending to be attacked by a snake would probably go badly for him.

“You see any idol Cas?” he asks, edging carefully around a snake.

“No. You may have to move them.”

“Sure, just hand me my snake charmer horn from the backpack.”

Dean swears Cas is actually going for the backpack before he pauses and says slowly, “I don’t believe we were provided with one of those.”

“Thanks for the update,” he smiles to himself, nudging a pile of snakes to the side with his boot.

“Hurry up, Dean. Chuck and Lisa are coming over the hill.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Bending over, he quickly plucks a small carved wooden idol off the ground. “You gotta help me up man."     

Just then, Chuck’s face appears over the edge of the pit along with Cas’. “Hey Dean,” he says, a wavering smile on his face. “Um, I was wondering…”

“Chuck, it’s fine.” Lisa appears beside him, eyes roving around the pit quickly before she carefully lowers herself in beside Dean, wincing a little as she does so.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks with concern.

“I twisted my ankle a little, but I’m all good,” she smiles slightly at him, keeping an eye on the snakes the entire time.

“Dean, let’s go,” Cas says impatiently, tapping a hand on the side of the pit. “Come on.”

“Hang on Cas,” he says, looking down at the idol in his hands before handing it to Lisa. “Here, take this.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—“

“Come on Lisa, don’t insult my act of kindness for the week,” Dean smiles, pressing the idol at her. “Someone come over here to lift her up.”

Cas is still leaning over the side of the pit, scrutinizing Dean with narrowed eyes. “Here,” he says, offering his hand. Lisa reaches for him and Cas pulls her out easily.

"Thank you so much Dean,” Lisa says sincerely.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks Dean!” Chuck calls, offering Lisa his shoulder as they continue past the pit and down the path.

Dean doesn’t speak as he searches quickly for another idol, finally finding one behind a giant ass snake and managing to hit it out from behind the damn thing with his boot. Cas is silent as well, pulling him out of the pit just as easily as he’d pulled Lisa out. Which turned Dean on in a way he didn’t want to consider.

“That was…nice of you,” Castiel says, taking the idol from Dean and shoving it into the backpack.

“Yeah, well, you know,” he says uncomfortably, setting off after Chuck and Lisa.

Cas easily keeps up with his pace and Dean does his best not to look at him, opting instead to stare at his feet and consider how best to get out of this conversation. Usually something he only has to consider when he was talking to Sam: figures Cas would be just as annoying.

“Do you find Lisa to be an attractive woman?” Cas asks conversationally.

Dean rounds on him. “So what’s the deal with your tattoo?”

Cas smirks at him. “I know exactly what you’re doing,” he says softly. “But I’ll allow it anyway. I got it in college.”

“It looked weird,” Dean offers, amending quickly, “I mean it was Edward Scissorhands weird, not Hannibal Lector weird. So y’know, kind of cool. I’ve never seen angel wings drawn with only straight lines before.”

“If achieving Edward Scissorhands levels of weird is a compliment, then thank you,” Cas replies dryly. “I drew it.”

“You drew that?” Dean asks in disbelief, and quickly, before Cas can protest (which he would because Dean’s being a creep) he lifts his shirt a little to expose his hip bone. The tattoo is all stark black lines and harsh angles, somehow bringing more power into the angel wings than the soft curves they were usually depicted with did. “Dude, I would buy this in a heartbeat. This is the kind of stuff I always try carving into table legs and end up fucking up horribly.”

“I’m sure you’re very good at wood carving,” Cas frowns in what looks like disappointment.

“I definitely am, but not at stuff like this,” he replies easily, dropping Cas’ shirt and running a hand over it. “You do good work Cas.”

Cas turns away abruptly, pulling the map out of the side pocket of the backpack. “We’re supposed to be coming up on a giant tree. I assume we’ll have to climb it, which I’ll do, since you were the ‘chick’ last time.”

“Yeah, ok.” Dean reluctantly lets the subject be dropped, since it had been how he’d stopped talking about his own feelings in the first place. Maybe Cas doesn’t like talking about his job like Dean doesn’t like talking about his family. He can respect that. “You got any family Cas?”

“Please stop talking Dean.”

Alright, apparently that was off limits too.

***

Castiel knew he’d been abrupt, but Dean was getting on his nerves, something he managed to do quite often. Castiel can’t quite figure out his personality. One minute he’s brash and annoying, acting as if he’s God’s personal gift to humanity, and the next he’s paying Castiel compliments and flashing those bright green eyes at him in obvious invitation. It’s unpredictable, and Cas is used to being the unpredictable one. He isn’t going to share his life with Dean, not when his tempestuous nature could so easily and unpredictably either validate it or tear it down.

The tree they’re supposed to be looking for is easy to find. Set off the side of the path, it’s at least three times the width of the trees surrounding it and wrapped with vines. The small idol heads hang from the vines about eight feet off the ground. Castiel shrugs the backpack off his shoulders and hands it to Dean, easily scaling the side of the tree by using the vines as footholds and pulling down an idol.

“I’m not sure these are culturally appropriate,” he says, dropping to the ground and handing it off to Dean.

“It’s an American TV show, I’m sure they did very extensive research,” Dean says with mock seriousness. “Come on, one more of these things and we can get back to the pool.”

“Yes, and you did so well at the pool.”

Castiel meant it to be scathing, but curiously Dean shoots him a cocky grin. Either he’s incredibly stupid or he’s purposely missing the point in order to annoy Castiel. If there’s one thing Castiel’s figured out about Dean Winchester in the short time he’d spent with him, it was that there was a lot more to him than what met the eye. Even though what did actually meet the eye (lush, soft looking lips came immediately to mind) is more than enough to tempt Cas to begin with.

Castiel is willing to bet one of those hidden depths was not complete and utter idiocy. Most likely just a bit of idiocy, but Dean has shown himself more than capable of reading social cues, something Castiel has never been able to grasp.

Realizing Dean is trying to annoy him annoys him even more. It also turns him on, because Castiel is always turned on by defiant semi-idiots who refused to take his crap, but that was a thought for another time, preferably when he was near a bed. Or a shower.

Fueled by frustration, he leads Dean the last mile or so down the path until they reach a small pool the river dumps into, a charming rocky outcrop with a small waterfall providing the place where the water entered. Castiel pulls out the map and scans the instructions quickly before dropping it and pinning Dean with a look.

“What is it?” Dean asks, just catching up with him and obviously cautious about the look on his face. “Do we have to sacrifice a toe to a crocodile or something?”

“No,” he replies, pulling a small waterproof camcorder out of the backpack. “We have to record ourselves kissing.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he says impatiently. “We have to do it with the waterfall as the background. It’s supposed to be romantic. Read it yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“Hey man, I believe you,” Dean says, holding up his hands. He studies the pool carefully before walking in, looking back expectantly at Castiel. “Kinda dumb to make us record it when there are cameras everywhere, but I’m sure they’re just for Gabriel’s manipulative amusement or something. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Castiel follows him readily, figuring out how to work the camcorder. Maybe if he fakes an inability to handle technology correctly they could be forced to kiss repeatedly. He wonders how many times he can get away with it, and how much of a wrecked state he can get Dean into before he’s stopped.

Dean stops just in front of the small waterfall and Castiel stands next to him, turning to face him. “Are you ready?” Castiel asks steadily.

Dean nods in response, and Castiel hits the record button and holds the camcorder out in front of them. Without pause he leans into Dean and captures his lips forcefully, meaning to make it quick and dirty. However Dean won’t allow him to pull away, letting out a soft noise as he follows him back, cupping Castiel’s face with one hand and tilting his head up to get a better angle.

Before he knows it Castiel has his hand buried in Dean’s hair and is pushing back, nipping at his lips in an attempt to get him to open, just enough to –

A subtle splash breaks through the air and he rips himself away, diving for the fallen camcorder and scooping it out of the water just as it hits.

“I think that will be acceptable,” he says briskly, shoving the small electronic back into the bag.

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice distant. “That should work.”

***

Sam had read ahead on the map, and he really isn’t looking forward to what’s coming next.

After spending about five minutes of talking Becky into going down into the snake pit and another five helping her actually find a small idol head, Sam’s fed up. He’s been able to hear Luke and Jess getting along behind them ever since he’d easily retrieved an idol hanging from the vines on a giant tree, and it’s making him seriously regret this adventure. His conversations with Becky are stilted and awkward, her complete and utter devotion to hang on to everything he says creeping him out more often than not. Tomorrow and its promise of a new partner with actual boundaries could not come quickly enough.

But before he can do that, apparently he’s being forced to kiss Becky. In a romantic setting. On camera.

He pulls the camcorder out of the backpack and turns it over in his hands, trying to figure out the best way of telling Becky he’s going to give her a quick kiss (with an emphasis on quick) that was least likely to make her freak out.

He stalls too long though. Luke and Jess appear through the trees behind them, Jess giggling fiercely while Luke only looks mildly amused. “Is this where we’re supposed to be kissing?” Luke asks when he catches sight of Sam.

“No, not us,” Sam says without thinking, feeling stupid the minute it leaves his mouth. “I mean, uh, no, not you and me, me and Becky, we’re going to uh—yeah, we’re supposed to kiss our partners here.”

Luke chuckles, looking Sam up and down. “Perhaps later Sam. I’m all Jessica’s today.”

"We’re kissing?” Becky asks excitedly, and Sam can tell she’s decided to ignore all interaction between Luke and himself. She grabs Sam’s hand and he, surprised by the strength she’s exhibiting, willingly follows her into the small pool.

“I’m probably going to have to climb you like a tree,” Becky says gleefully, studying his body as if assessing how best to go about it.

“No, I’ll just bend down,” Sam says firmly, flipping on the camcorder. Glancing nervously at Luke and Jess, he quickly leans down to press his lips to hers, counting to five in his head before pulling away. Becky yanks him back by his shirt though, kissing him one more time.

“That one was for good luck,” she says coyly, turning and flouncing out of the water. Sam follows at a slower pace, unable to help looking at Jess and Luke again. Jess is smiling encouragingly at him, whereas Luke only has an eyebrow raised.

Sam continues to let Becky lead him down the path, glancing back every three steps or so and stopping completely when Luke and Jess start their kiss. Luke has her crowded against the rocky outcropping, one hand on her hip and the other completely cradling her head as she films. She looks completely at his mercy, like Luke could break her in one fluid movement and Sam…isn’t sure how he feels about that. When Luke pulls away and catches him staring, he smiles widely.

Sam slowly turns away and jogs to catch back up with Becky.

***

They hear Gabriel before they see him, his loud obnoxious laughter echoing through the trees ahead of them as he talks to whoever came in before them. He and Cas had managed to pass a limping Lisa and Chuck a few yards back, and although Dean feels bad for leaving her, there isn’t much more he can do other than give her another shoulder to lean on. Somehow he doesn’t think Lisa or Cas would appreciate the gesture.

“Hey buckos!” Gabriel grins when he catches sight of them. “Do you have my goodies?”

Cas slings the backpack around and pulls out the two idol heads they have, plus the camcorder. “This is for our third idol.”

“Let me see it first,” he says eagerly, making grabby hands. Dean rolls his eyes as Gabriel flips the camcorder open, pressing play. “Woah,” he whistles. “You boys got into it, didn’t you?”

Castiel looks at him with a blank expression and Dean, taking his cue from Cas, scowls at Gabriel. “You done gettin’ your rocks off?” he asks roughly.

“No need to get touchy Deano, this is quality stuff,” Gabriel says, plunking a third idol down next to the two they’d collected.

Dean winces slightly. He hadn’t meant to get so enthusiastic with that kiss. He’d known what Cas was going for the second he’d felt his lips against his own. It had felt quick and rough and dirty, and that had pissed Dean off. Cas was trying to show off, so Dean had done the only thing he could think of and had kissed him like he would kiss a date.

He might have gone a bit overboard, because for about half a second he’d fooled himself into thinking Cas actually was a date and did return his feelings.

Except wait, no, that came out wrong. Cas wasn’t returning feelings because there weren’t any feelings to return. Stupid – just to clarify, Cas is a cool guy, but Dean has no feelings there. None that are important. Only those of the, ‘hey man I tolerate you, wanna grab a beer’ variety. That’s all.

Happy he has that all sorted out in his head, Dean tunes back in to whatever the hell Gabriel’s saying.

“You guys came in fourth, so unfortunately no Oasis for you tonight. But your cabin’s got a soft bed,” he winks.

Dean gives him a tight smile as Cas’ robot blank stare continues. Gabriel looks unperturbed, and Dean has to admit he’s grudgingly admiring of how nothing seemed to bother him. “Alright, get out of here you crazy kids. Go mingle by the pool. I’ll see you at the Couple’s Choice Ceremony tomorrow night.”

Dean notices Chuck and Lisa arriving behind them and gently pulls Cas away from Gabriel. Cas shakes him off as soon they’re clear of the finish line, eyes narrowing in thought as they walk.

“You ok, Cas?” Dean asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Dean, I’m bisexual.”

The answer surprises a startled laugh out of him. “I think I’d figured that out Cas,” he replies, still chuckling. “You sure as hell didn’t kiss me like you were straight.”

“I’m telling you this,” Castiel continues as though Dean hadn’t spoken, “because I’m very attracted to you.”

“Oh,” Dean shrugs. “Well I could have told you that. I mean, what’s not to be attracted to?” he shoots Castiel an arrogant grin.

Castiel stops abruptly, turning into Dean. There’s maybe an inch of space between them, Castiel only having to tilt his chin slightly to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m telling you I’m going to fuck you,” he says with surety. “Eventually.”

Dean’s about to nod in agreement, suggest that they go back to the cabin right now, but Cas continues.

“Just don’t fall in love with me.”

Dean stares at him. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Cas repeats. “I don’t have the time for it right now. I know that we’re both attractive and so it makes sense, but—“

“Fuck off Cas,” he growls. “I’m not going to fall in love with you. I barely even like you, you stupid, self-absorbed asshole.”

Cas shrugs in the face of Dean’s anger, head tilting slightly. “I thought it would be fair to warn you. You kissed me like you could love me.”

Dean’s beyond anger now, and hurtling fast into the land of Things Said That Are Later Regretted. “I kissed you like that because you were trying to be a dick with your kiss! You can’t just fucking attack me and expect me not to—“

“You did it,” Cas interrupts calmly. “You did it, so I’m simply asking that you control your feelings as long as we are in this partnership.”

Dean steps back, lips pursed and expression hard. “Then I guess there’s nothing to worry about, because I’m pretty sure that’s over,” he says lowly. “Good bye Cas.”

Dean stomps off down the path, kicking the fronds of the plants that get in his way. Fuck Cas. Dean’s not here to befriend conceited artists anyway.

***

Sam’s happy about sixth place. He can live with it. He’d accepted Gabriel’s ribbing about his and Becky’s kiss with grace, allowing him to have his fun because he was just so damn happy the entire experience was over. Maybe in a couple of years he’d consider it one of those character building experiences his professors were always talking about, but for now, he doesn’t want to think about it.

He hasn’t seen Dean since he changed into his swimsuit and made his way over to the pool, but that was fine. He can see Cas on the far side of the pool under the veranda, so obviously Dean has to be somewhere nearby. For now, Sam’s most concerned with who was available to partner up with him for round two.

 Jo and Benny are in the hot tub, along with Charlie, Gilda and Kevin. Meg and Ruby are taking turns diving off the side of the pool, while Jess, Lisa, Bela and Becky sit chatting in chairs under the veranda a ways from Cas. Chuck’s sitting at a small wooden table scribbling furiously on a piece of paper right behind the group of girls. Much like his brother, Luke and Gordon are nowhere to be seen, although it looks to Sam like Balthazar’s trying to decide whether or not to bother Castiel as he loiters around the table of food placed on the patio. It’s none of his business though, so Sam heads over to the hot tub.

“Hey guys,” he says, sliding into the water with a sigh. “How’d it go today?”

“Hey Sam!” Charlie greets as the rest smile at him. “We were all just talking about Anna and Victor actually, since they won. Think that means they have to get married?”

“I told you,” Jo insists. “I bet they’re having sex. Have you seen the Oasis? It’s always been insane in past seasons, I bet it’s gotten even better.”

“Well did they even get along?” Kevin asks her. “You guys were behind them the whole time, weren’t you?”

She blushes. “We were…kinda preoccupied.”

Benny grins proudly, throwing an arm around her shoulder in a possessive gesture. “We enjoyed that third challenge a whole lot.”

“Guess it’d be no use asking you to be my partner, huh?” Sam smiles at Jo.

"’Fraid not. Don’t worry, you can cry all about it in confessional tomorrow.”

“Confessional?” Gilda asks with interest. “Sounds church-y.”

“One of the PAs told me about it,” Jo explains. “It’s basically like our intros. They ask us about the adventure and the people we interacted with and stuff, and then they can cut it in to build the story. Like, nobody’s gonna want to watch this conversation on TV, are they? They’ll make it so it’s entertaining.”

“So rule number one: don’t use confessional as bitching time,” Charlie hums. “Got it.”

Gilda pushes her shoulder playfully. “Who could you possibly have to bitch about?”

“Kevin. He’s stolen the prettiest girl here.”

Kevin snorts from beside Sam. “You had your chance Charlie. There was nothing stopping you from choosing Gilda.”

“Nothing stopping me now either,” Charlie grins, rubbing her hands together in a parody of an evil villain. Kevin just rolls his eyes in response, and Sam is interested to see that he doesn’t seem too worried about Charlie’s threat.

“Do you have someone else in mind?” he asks quietly.

Kevin shakes his head. “I have a feeling I’ll be out of here tomorrow, which is completely fine with me. Turns out a dating game show isn’t the best way of finding romance. All this planning and he-said-she-said feels too much like high school, and those relationships never work out.”

“Sorry,” Sam offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’m here because I was looking at a Cosmo for dating tips.”

Kevin’s lips twitch. “Really? And you still ended up here? I’m shocked.”

“Shut up,” Sam grins.

“You got your eye on anyone Sam?” Benny asks. “Jo says your girl Becky is a piece of work.”

“Yeah, I’d like to trade,” he admits a tad guiltily. “Uh, Jess is really pretty. And she seems nice so…I might ask her.”

“You should go talk to her!” Charlie urges. “No really, go do it! I got the nice girl vibe from her too, and she’s definitely straight.”

“Always an admirable quality,” Sam nods.

“Charlie’s right Sam,” Gilda says. “You should really go talk to her, seal the deal. That way you two can at least have a little surety, as long as you don’t stab one another in the backs.”

“What a beautiful portrayal of the early stages of true love,” Kevin says seriously, earning a laugh from Sam as he climbs out of the hot tub.

“I’ll go talk to her,” he agrees. “As long as you guys promise to talk to whomever you want to partner up with.”

“I think the hot tub is all covered Sam,” Charlie waves a hand at him. “Now be gone with you. Dispense your wisdom on some other love lost souls.”

Sam shakes his head, leaving them to their laughter and certainty. He has a partner to find.

***

Castiel sits picking a thread on the seat cushion below him, staring out at the pool. When he’d told Dean earlier not to fall in love with him, it’d been mostly in jest, but also as a small reminder to himself. Emotions are messy, and often Castiel finds himself having ones he’d never given himself permission to have. He’s been under no impression that Dean will ever fall in love with him, with someone like him. Yet Dean had reacted much stronger than Castiel imagined he would, and now here he is an hour later, with no Dean in sight and quite a lot of confusion over how that conversation had spiraled out of control so fast.

He’s always been bad at reading people, but it seems like he had a special talent for misreading Dean.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Castiel’s eyes shoot up to meet Balthazar’s sardonic gaze and he snorts. “I’m worth much more than a penny.”

“A nickel then?” Balthazar asks, pulling a chair up across from Castiel and collapsing into it. “I hear that’s equal to five pennies.”

“Maybe a nickel,” he allows. “If it’s really worth all that much to you; I was thinking about Dean.”

“Ah yes, good old Dean. How was your adventure with that Neanderthal? Came in fourth, didn’t you?”

“Right behind you,” Castiel points out. “I’m not unhappy about it. As long as we’re not coming in first or last, the placement doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, but I’d like to come in first at least once, wouldn’t you?” Balthazar smiles. “Just to see that damn Oasis everyone keeps gabbing on about.”

Castiel shrugs and goes back to picking his thread.

“Besides which, you have to come in first overall to win.” Balthazar leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I have a feeling you and I are quite alike Castiel.”

“Really?” Castiel asks curtly. “And how’s that?”

“Well,” he says, leaning further forward and lowering his voice, “Neither one of us is here to find love in the wild, are we? At least not solely.”

Castiel frowns. “Why should this conversation be of any interest to me?”

“Fine, straight to the point then,” Balthazar smiles salaciously. “Although I do enjoy a little foreplay. I believe you and I should team up until we’re no longer useful to one another. You want to win, I want to win, we can start winning together Cassie.”

“What about Bela?”

“Pshaw. Dearest Bela knows we’d never work. We’re much too alike. I’m sure she’s cozying up to her next partner as we speak.”

Castiel nods slowly. “So you want to choose me as your next partner at the Couple’s Choice Ceremony.”

“Exactly,” he says delightedly, slumping back in his seat. “Whaddya say Cassie? Will you make me the happiest man alive?”

Castiel turns his head and goes back to staring at the pool. He likes Dean and he actually enjoyed his time on the adventure today. Dean was a puzzle Castiel very much wanted to figure out. But though Castiel is certain he and Dean are going to end up in bed together at some point, trying to figure him out sounds like much more than that. Getting away from him for a little would probably be best. And Castiel does want to win, so as long as Balthazar is willing to help…

“I’ll do it.”

***

Jess is fantastic. Sam is amazed by how much they have in common. She’s studying to be an elementary school teacher, she comes from a small Midwestern town and she’s beautiful to boot. Sam’s certain, judging by their current conversation, that they’d complement one another perfectly as partners.

So why wasn’t he asking her yet?

There was one easy answer to that one: Sam’s out of practice. Between earning his Bachelor’s and then law school, he’s barely had any time to go on dates, much less ask any girls out. Even though he’s on a scholarship Dean still pays for a lot of his education, so he also works a job to help out on top of the various internships required to gain experience in a law firm. There had always been a lot of flirting, but if Sam thinks about it, he doesn’t think he’s asked a girl out in at least two years. So what if he asks incorrectly and Jess says no? What if she says no just because he sucks?

Yet even as much as that worries him, he still feels as if there’s some other reason he’s not asking.

“Has anyone told you you’re very expressive when you think?” Jess asks him, smiling. Luckily Becky’s been drawn away from the group by Chuck and is reading over his shoulder, but Lisa and Bela are still around and regarding him with interest.

“Dean tells me that a lot,” Sam nods. “He’s got names for the different expressions and everything.”

“Charming,” Bela says, looking bored. “Such a unique sibling dynamic.”

“Hush Bela,” Lisa admonishes. “Dean seems really nice. He actually gave me one of his idols during the competition so I wouldn’t have to be in the snake pit searching for one on my busted ankle.”

“He did that?” Sam asks, regarding her with interest. Lisa’s pretty, and she seems like Dean’s type, with dark hair, expressive eyes and a loud personality to match Dean’s. Maybe she’d be a good match for him.

“Yes, he was very nice to me.”

“So how was your little adventure with Becky, Sam?” Bela asks with a sarcastic smile. “Are we going to be seeing a lot more of you two?”

“Luke and I were behind Sam and Becky the entire time,” Jess giggles, shooting Sam a coy smile. “He didn’t seem like he was having much fun.”

“Probably because you were behind me,” Sam points out reasonably. “I was upset you weren’t walking beside me and talking to me.”

Jess blushes and glances away while Bela smirks at Sam and Lisa openly beams. “Should we leave you two alone?” she asks happily.

“Uh actually,” Sam says, glancing over in the corner to see Cas still talking quietly with Balthazar. “Have any of you seen Dean? Because if not I should go make sure he’s not harassing the wildlife or something.”

“I haven’t seen him since his fight with Castiel,” Bela says easily, studying her nails. “Perhaps he’s licking his wounds.”

Aw crap. A fight? That was Sam’s cue to go. “I should go check on him anyway,” he says, smiling at Jess as he stands. “Rain check on the private conversation thing?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jess nods. “I hope Dean’s okay!”

“Me too,” Sam mutters, heading away from the bright lights of the pool area and all the cameras and onto the dimmer path leading to the cabins. He notices no one with a camera has peeled off to follow him, so either they’re filming him some other way or they’re confident nothing interesting will happen until he gets into a cabin, which he knows have been bugged.

“Fancy meeting you here Sam.”

Sam will never admit he jumped, because he didn’t. Maybe he startled a little, but it definitely wasn’t a jump.

Luke’s sitting on the steps of one of the cabins, his face hidden in the shadows cast by the branch of the tree beside him.

“Hey Luke,” Sam says, hesitantly stepping closer. Something about Luke puts him on edge, and he isn’t quite sure why. It’s not fear, since Luke has given him no reason to be afraid. Yet Sam still feels a sense of caution, like Luke is dangerous in another way. “What are you doing out here?”

“Giving myself motivational speeches in the mirror, applying my make up…normal party preparations,” he answers mock playfully, shooting Sam a sarcastic smile. “What about you?”

“I’m going to check on my brother,” Sam confesses. Wondering if he could get Luke to smile for real, he adds, “And to powder my nose.”

The shadows playing across Luke move slightly, and it takes a second for Sam to realize it’s because he’s silently chuckling. “That’s good Sam,” he says quietly. “You know, I quite like you.”

“Thank you?” Sam offers, watching as Luke stands up from the steps and makes his way past Sam. “I thought you didn’t want to go to the party.”

“I never said that,” he counters. “Though I assure you it will be excruciatingly boring until your return.”

Sam smiles slightly. There’s that weird feeling in his chest again. “Sure, I’ll, uh, ok. I’ll try not to take too long.”

Luke doesn’t answer, but the sound of him whistling as he walks away follows Sam all the way to Dean’s cabin.

***

Sitting on his bed and scowling at the wall probably isn’t the best use of his time, but whatever. Dean’s angry. He’s angry because Cas is a dick, and because all the food is by the pool. Where Cas the dick is.

God he’s horny.

Hungry. He meant he was hungry.

There’s a knock and the door opens before Dean has time to answer. He twists around to see Sam standing in the doorway, a disappointed look on his face. “Why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting, you’re pouting,” Dean shoots back, scooting back on the bed so he can lean against the headboard.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Great comeback. Did a five year old teach that one to you? Seriously, what’s going on? Everyone else is out by the pool.”

“I know. I’m tired Sammy, I don’t feel like dealing with people.”

“Dean, you love people. Something else is up with you.”

He snorts. “I think you got me confused with you, Sasquatch.” He goes quiet, chewing his lip and staring at the multicolored bedspread. He can feel Sam’s ‘talk to me’ eyes burning into his skull.

“Is this about your fight with Cas?”

“Who the hell told you about that?”

Sam sighs and sits down on the bed, Dean moving over to make room for him. “Bela. I guess she heard you guys yelling.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” Dean mutters. “Look, it was nothing to worry about, alright? Cas said something stupid and I set him straight, end of story.”

‘It’s not the end of the story if you’re sitting in here avoiding him,” Sam replies, studying his face. “Does this have anything to do with your attraction to him?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“No really, Dean, if—“

“Why all of a sudden do people think I want Cas’ ass so badly?” Dean interrupts. “I mean fine, I kind of do, but why the hell should that be a problem? Or anyone’s business? If I fuck him, I fuck him, and we can all move on. If I don’t, same thing. What’s the big deal?”

Sam’s giving him a concerned frown. “It just seems like he’s getting under your skin. I don’t want the trip ruined for you because of him.”

“He’s not getting under my skin,” Dean says roughly. “Seriously Sam, I have everything under control. I’m not even sure if we’re going to be partners next round.”

Dean physically feels rather than sees Sam brighten next to him, although he does manage to keep his voice neutral as he says, “That’s great Dean. Meeting new people is good.”

Dean barely suppresses a smile when he answers. “Shut up you big girl. You just want me to play the prince in your weird, Disney fueled fantasies. What’s that make you, the fairy godmother?”

“I,” Sam declares solemnly, “would make a badass fairy godmother. Unfortunately this is real life and I can’t do anything about your face. I could maybe have one of the girls loan you a pretty dress though.”

Dean bumps Sam’s shoulder, Sam bumps him back, and before he knows it he’s ten again and wrestling Sammy into a headlock. “Say uncle, Sam! Say it or I’ll spit!”

Sam knees him in the stomach and rolls away, straight off the bed actually. Dean’s stomach hurts like hell but he can’t stop laughing hysterically, crawling over to the edge of the bed to look at Sam below, spread eagle on the floor.

Dean wheezes at the sight, erupting into laughter again. “You—you alright there Sammy?”

“Shut up,” Sam groans, keeping his eyes closed. “I hate you, you jackass.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, mirth still coloring his tone as he rolls onto his back on the bed to look up at the ceiling. “I hate you too, kid.”

***

Castiel sits by the pool, sketchbook on his lap. He hadn’t gone back to the cabin to sleep last night, only returning briefly to get his book. Dean had been flopped on the bed, taking up every bit of spare space with his sprawled limbs. He didn’t wake up the entire time Cas was there, which he was grateful for. He wouldn’t really have known what to say to Dean if he had. Then Cas had come back to his chair by the pool, spending half the night dozing and half zoning out as his hand moved lazily over the page of his book.

“Castiel?” a quiet voice calls across the pool. He looks up and a minute later Rachel is standing beside him, a curious look on her face. “What are you drawing?”

He looks back down to see a familiar pair of sketched eyes staring back at him. “I don’t know,” he replies, closing the book. “Did you need something Rachel?”

“You know, it’s cool to flaunt that stuff,” she offers. “I mean, it’s why your manager paid to have you on the show.”

“Ah,” Castiel says succinctly. He’d wondered why he’d been picked to be on the show, since his audition tape had been less than inspiring, even from his point of view. Castiel hadn’t questioned it though, choosing to believe there was something at least someone liked about him. Figures it was just Inias coming through for him once again.

“Right,” Rachel says after a moment of silence. Castiel realizes he probably should have said something more. “Listen, it sounds like you’re tired, but since you’re already out here, they asked me to come get you for confessional.”

“Should I know what that is?”

“Like your intro,” she explains. “They’re just going to ask you some questions about what happened yesterday so they can cut them in today.”

“If I have to,” he sighs, standing up in order to follow her.

“Uh,” Rachel looks him up and down. “Do you want to change first?”

Castiel frowns down at his clothes. He’s still in his shorts and workout shirt from yesterday, though he’d added a hoodie. He was certain his hair was sticking up in all directions from constantly running his hands through it, and the glasses he used for drawing probably weren’t doing anything to dispel the illusion of the sad, tired hobo he was sure he was making.

He smirks slightly. “I’m comfortable. Please show me the way.”

Rachel opens her mouth like she wants to say something before shutting it decisively and leading him in the opposite direction of the cabins. A small camera crew is again set up with the jungle as a background, Bobby standing off to the side and talking to the two cameramen.

Castiel is quickly situated in front of the camera, with Rachel making several futile attempts to flatten his hair until Castiel hands her his sketchbook and gently pushes her away.

“Alright Castiel,” Bobby says gruffly. “Just answer the questions quickly and truthfully and we can all get the hell outta here. Keep your eyes on the lens, not on me, make sure you put the question in your answer. Roll camera Ed.”

The camera makes a small beep and Castiel blinks as a bright light is turned directly on to him. Bobby starts off easily, asking some questions about the other contestants and about the adventure Castiel had gone through yesterday. Castiel begins to have trouble keeping his eyes open as his answers start to sound repetitive.

“What’s your opinion on Dean?”

Castiel pauses briefly before answering. “I enjoy Dean’s company. He seems like a good person.”

Castiel is also exceptionally interested in Dean’s personality and wants to explore every inch of him with his tongue, but he’s not going to admit that on camera.

“You see any love connection there?” Bobby’s voice sounds too emotionless for such a seemingly important question, but then Castiel supposes he must’ve repeated it dozens of times working on a show like this.

“I don’t know Dean that well,” Castiel shrugs. “At this point I do not see a future for us as a couple. It’s hard to make…connections.”

“That why you’re dumping him for Balthazar?”

Castiel purses his lips before answering. It’s not that he’s _dumping_ Dean. Rather, he’s removing himself from Dean before he can get himself in trouble. Having sex with pretty and brash Dean instead of having sex with ‘I like to build things, your art is amazing’ Dean would be much easier for everyone involved. “Balthazar seems very interesting and I would like to spend some time with him.”

Bobby waves his hand and Ed lowers the camera. “Thanks kid, we’ve tortured you enough. Go do me a favor and get some shut eye.”

Castiel nods sharply and holds out his hand for his sketchbook. Rachel hands it back to him and he tucks it against his chest before heading back in the direction of the cabins. Maybe Dean will have woken up and left by now, and he can catch a few hours before the Couple’s Choice Ceremony. His cabin comes into sight and he speeds up, only to be violently grabbed by the wrist and dragged against the wall of the cabin before his own. Reacting on instinct he drops his sketchbook and twists his arm, bringing his attacker tight against his chest with his forearm to their throat.

“Woah.” Laughter splits the quiet morning air. “Slow clap for the badass moves, Clarence. You sure know how to treat a girl, dontcha?”

Castiel releases Meg abruptly, pulse still beating quickly from the adrenaline rush. “My name is Castiel.”

“I know,” she grins lasciviously, eyes roving up and down Castiel’s body. “Those were some moves.”

“Why did you grab me?”

“Just wanted to talk.” Eyes wide in an over-exaggeration of innocence, Meg holds up her hands. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at her. “I’m listening.”

“I want a new partner,” she says shortly, an annoyed twist to her lips. “Gordon is useless. I thought he’d be a good choice because he seemed ruthless, but all he really did was bitch about everybody else. I want you.” Meg takes a smooth step closer, her hand sliding up his bare arm. “You and your ridiculously strong body.”

“Oh,” Castiel says blankly, tilting his head at her. “That’s information I could use against you, isn’t it?”

“I want you to,” she purrs.

“I appreciate the incredibly generous offer, but I have a partner for the next round.”

Meg shrugs, tilting her head invitingly up towards his. “Next time then. For now we can just get to know each other better.”

Castiel is exceptionally good at making split second decisions, but just as he’s deciding whether to go with it or step away, Rachel appears around the side of the cabin, stopping short. “Uh. Meg? They need you for confessional.”

Meg sighs and steps back reluctantly, dragging her hand all the way back down Castiel’s arm. “Catch you later Clarence,” she winks, heading off down the path.

“You’re a real ladies man, aren’t you?” Rachel observes.

“Yes,” he mutters, running a hand over his arm as if that would rub away Meg’s touch. “It’s a special talent.”

***

Dean used to hate dressing up when he was younger. Like absolutely hated it. Sam had practically had to hold him at gunpoint so Dean wouldn’t embarrass him at his high school graduation. Then Dean’s business started to grow and his clientele got richer and whaddaya know, more wives will convince their husbands to commission a hand carved eight foot dining table from him when he’s wearing a tailored suit.

Plus he looks fucking good in a suit. Like even better than usual.

So yeah, Dean can easily admit he’s having fun with this whole Couple’s Choice Ceremony thing, at least from a dress code point of view. He’s got on a black button down shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans, and most of the guys are dressed the same way while the women wear dresses in various styles. He has to work really hard at keeping his gaze straight ahead though, since Cas is sitting next to him and the blue of his shirt brings out the lighter shade in his eyes perfectly. He’s already caught himself staring once, no way did he need to advertise that he was apparently a prepubescent middle schooler with a crush.

“You’re all sitting in the order you finished the adventure in,” Gabriel says cheerfully as they settle down into their seats. The Couple’s Choice Ceremony is taking place in a small patio section off the veranda, with high risers that face the front of the room so even those in the back can see. “Anna and Victor get the special seats up front because they came in first. How are you guys? Did you enjoy the Oasis?”

“It was nice,” Victor smiles while Anna nods in agreement. “We had a good time.”

“I bet you did,” Dean mutters. Cas shifts subtly beside him, but Dean doesn’t dare look to see if it was a laugh.

“I bet you did,” Gabriel chuckles. Dean scowls. “Anyway, welcome to your first Couple’s Choice ceremony. Here’s your first chance to boot your partner. I’ll call you up one couple at a time, and both of you will have the chance to decide whether you want to stay with your partner or switch it up a little.” He waggles his eyebrows at them, smirking. “Personally I’d take the opportunity to sample the goods, but it’s all up to you guys. Since Anna and Victor came in first, if they ask you to be your partner, you can’t say no. Basically they’re allowed to have anyone they want. Not the same for anyone else. You get rejected, you step aside. Hopefully somebody will take pity on you later on and choose you, because if not you’re going home. Anna and Victor, come on down!”

Anna and Victor both stand awkwardly from their seats, and Dean can’t help wondering if something really did happen between them last night. He thinks maybe they look just uncomfortable enough to have achieved the one night stand.

“Now Anna, since you got to choose Victor yesterday, Victor gets to make his decision first. Whaddaya say big man? Want to stay with Anna or try to find love with another girl?”

“I’ll stay,” Victor says firmly.

“You guys must have had fun last night,” Gabriel winks. “Anna?”

“I’ll stay too,” she smiles, “And for your information Gabriel, we _did_ have fun last night.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up and he whistles. “Alright you crazy kids. Give each other a hug and move on over to the couple’s area.”

Dean rolls his eyes at the sappy display taking place before him and gives up on trying not to look at Cas. Dude’s more interesting anyway, and just as bored as Dean, judging by the expression on his face. Maybe they’re both bored enough to put the stupid conversation from yesterday behind them. After all, Cas has been avoiding their cabin like a husband who forgot to take out the trash, so that means he knows he’s the one in the wrong, right? Dean’s willing to forgive him for the sake of his sanity.

“So who here do you think has had sex already?” he murmurs, leaning over.

Castiel’s lips twitch, but he manages to keep a straight face when he answers incredibly seriously, “Meg and Gordon. For sure.”

“That a joke Cas?” Dean grins delightedly. “I didn’t think you spoke any humorous language other than sarcasm.”

“I occasionally dabble,” Cas confesses quietly as Benny and Jo choose to stay with one another and move to the couple’s area together. “I’ve been told sometimes I can be downright charming.”

“Now those are people that just wanna get into your pants Cas. Probably shouldn’t trust anything they say.”

“Should I trust the things you say?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You want to get into my pants.”

Dean frowns, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Maybe we should agree to be buddies,” he suggests. “Most of the crap we’ve run into seems to stem from the whole wanting to have sex with each other issue.”

God damn it, him and his stupid big mouth. Why the fuck did he just suggest that? He wants to have sex with Cas, not have slumber parties with him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend I haven’t had sex with before,” Cas says softly, and it’s only when his breath caresses Dean’s face that he notices how close they’re leaning towards one another. He realizes Cas is probably revealing more than he meant to about his past. Dean always makes sure friends and sex never mix, because even he understands those relationships go bad, fast. The fact that Castiel has probably had multiple experiences with the type of situation Dean tries so hard to avoid is…kind of sad actually.

He wonders if that’s why Cas acts the way he does.

“Castiel?”

Dean shoots backwards, leaving Castiel staring at him. Fuck, they were in a public place weren’t they? What the fuck was going on with him?

“I’m sorry, I missed the question,” Castiel says dumbly.

Gabriel has a shit eating grin on his face. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Balthy wants to know if you’ll be his partner, Castiel.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Cas agrees.

That actually gets a look of surprise out of Gabriel, Dean notes with a sort of numb sense of disbelief. Did he just imagine that whole conversation where he and Cas agreed to try the friends thing out? That lasted all about five seconds.

“Ok, Castiel, Balthazar, move on over to the couple’s area. Have anybody you want to ask, Bela?”

“I’ll take Luke,” she says decisively, not even phrasing it as a question. Luke studies her blankly for a moment before coming to a conclusion, moving to the couple’s area and forcing her to meet him there without a word.

“Alright Deano,” Gabriel says. “Either ask someone or move on over to the rejection area.”

Dean walks quickly down the risers, stopping beside Gabriel and staring at the remaining faces. Some avoid him, although Sam’s shooting him his ‘I feel so much pain for you’ look and Lisa’s smiling at him. Well. Lisa’s nice and pretty. “Uh, I’d like to ask Lisa to be my partner.”

“I’d love to,” Lisa accepts warmly, and with a huge sense of relief Dean leads her to the couple’s area, back to avoiding Castiel’s gaze. He watches quietly as a now partner-less Chuck tries to ask Becky only to be rejected and is subsequently sent to the box. However a moment later Sam asks a beaming Jess to be his partner, and Becky resigns herself to asking Chuck this time, saving him from elimination.

“Next up is our resident girl power duo,” Gabriel sings. “Any sparks fly between you two? Ruby?”

“Charlie and I had a pretty bangin’ time,” Ruby shrugs. “But I didn’t get any spark. I wanted to ask Meg.”

Meg rises slowly from her seat. “See ya later you whiny piece of shit,” she tells Gordon cheerfully. Gordon scowls viciously at her as Charlie chooses a readily agreeable Gilda.

“Unfortunately, Gordon, Kevin, that means you two are out of here,” Gabriel sighs, doing his best to look sad. He looks more like an asshole.

“This show is full of freaks anyway,” Gordon spits, standing from his seat and angrily leaving the patio.

“H’okay, we’ll cut that out,” Gabriel sighs. “Kevin, man, sorry you couldn’t find any love in the wild.”

“No problem, I had a good time,” he smiles warmly, waving as he follows after Gordon. “Bye guys!”

“Bye Kev!” Sam calls, and Jesus, look at that, Sam’s even made friends with everybody in the room already, what a fucking surprise. Dean’s sick of this already.


	4. Chapter 3

Dean’s pretty tired of this failing-at-relationships streak he’s on, even if the most recent failure is only a half-baked friendship with a nerdy asshole artist. Whatever. He’s tired of trying only to get his efforts thrown back in his face. Cassie had dumped him for going too fast, and Dean’s going to have to place the blame for that one on his dead mom, because he’s never been taught that a year of dating and then two months of painful deliberation and quietly freaking out is apparently too soon to ask a girl to marry you.

Plus she’d been mad at him for never saying, “I love you,” but he _had_. He’d just never said it out loud. Didn’t think he needed to.

So although Lisa’s nice and pretty and has got incredibly long legs, Dean’s not going to do anything about it. He’ll do his best in the challenges, but he’s just done even pretending to care. All he really wants is to get back to Sammy’s couch and watch TV all day, but he’s not going to leave his little brother here all alone.

After the Couple’s Choice Ceremony they’re sent to fetch their bags so they can switch cabins. Dean doesn’t purposely try to avoid Cas, but luckily for him it works out that way. He’s able to pack up his stuff and get out before Cas shows up. Lisa told him her cabin was the one closest to the pool, so he heads that way, duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he tries to avoid as many of the people moving around as possible.

“Ah, Dean.”

Dean groans under his breath and lifts his head, resisting the urge to scowl at Balthazar. “Hey,” he says, pasting on a cheerful grin. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to apologize for apprehending your gentleman,” Balthazar smirks in return, sticking out a hand for Dean to shake. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

“No, of course not. Sure you guys’ll make it far.”

“Oh, we’re going to win,” he says matter-of-factly. “But thank you for your well wishes.”

Dean drops all semblance of friendliness and laughs. “Sure you are. You guys win and I’ll paint my car bright yellow. And I take my car seriously, man.”          

Balthazar smiles at him. “Well then I’ll have to assume yellow is your favorite color, because Cassie and I without a doubt are making it all the way to the end. It’s why he agreed to my proposal of partnership yesterday, actually.”

Sure, Dean doesn’t care about Castiel and his stupid messy hair anymore, but he still can’t stop the pang of betrayal that shoots through his chest. “Whatever,” he growls. “You’re not winning because I’m winning, so why don’t you go shove it up your ass, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Not waiting for a response, Dean steps around Balthazar, taking off at a faster pace for Lisa’s cabin before he’s forced to deal with someone even smarmier than that jackass. Lisa startles when he slams open the door, dumping his bag on the floor just inside.

"Woah, calm down there Superman,” she jokes, catching sight of the stormy look on his face. “Are you alright?”

"I’m fine,” Dean says shortly, looking around. The cabin is basically an exact replica of the one he’d been previously sharing with Cas, except the door to the bathroom is on the right now instead of the left.

“So we’re partners now, huh?” Lisa asks as he comes to sit beside her on the bed, pulling off his boots as soon as he’s settled. “I never really got to say thank you for how much you helped yesterday, so…thank you.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, glancing at her. “Hey, how’s your ankle?”

She smiles at him, looking happy that he’d remembered, and geez, wasn’t that messed up. Dean wonders what her story is. “It feels much better! Don’t worry, I’ll be a hundred percent ready to go tomorrow.”

“I’m not worried,” Dean smiles back at her, holding her gaze a minute before looking around. There’s a small camera in the corner of the cabin opposite the bed, pointing right at them. “I guess we’re supposed to be getting to know each other, huh?”

Lisa pretends to think before nodding seriously, “I think that was part of the plan.”

“Alright,” he sighs, lying back on the bed. “So, what’s your favorite color?”

***

“Your Dean is something special, isn’t he?”

Castiel hums, his hand moving lightly over his sketchpad. He’s making a quick sketch of an interesting bird he saw earlier. No one he catered to would want to buy it, but he could really care less. This was his sketch book, and if he wanted to draw a bird he damn well would.

“--thought he was going to whip out his penis right there in public, along with his handy-dandy pocket ruler…Cassie? Are you paying attention?”

“Something about Dean’s penis,” Cas mutters, carefully shading in an individual feather. “Did you see it?”

“Very funny, you naughty boy,” Balthazar smiles, hopping onto the bed. “What is it you’re doing that’s so much more interesting than me anyway?” Stretching an arm out, he makes a grab for the sketchbook.

Castiel jerks back, sending Balthazar an irate look. “These are my drawings. For myself. Please don’t touch them.”

“Touchy,” he sighs. “Fine, I won’t lay a hand on your precious private notebook. But it really is very rude not to listen to me when I am being so devastatingly funny.”

“Hm,” he grunts, flipping the notebook shut and setting it aside. He hadn’t expected Balthazar to need so much attention. “What do you want to talk about?”

This is what Castiel hates about trying to get to know people. The script everyone follows that will supposedly lead to a happily ever after. Castiel usually ends up getting annoyed after a couple of weeks of it, conscious that he’s trying hard to follow the same steps as the person he’s attempting to connect with and frustrated that he has to. Though he was no longer religious in any way, some of the things his father had drilled into his head as a child still remained, and Castiel had heard enough times from his congregation that everybody in the world has one soul mate, and one soul mate only. Obviously he should know if a new person he’d met in the first few hours was his own, so why should he bother making an effort?

At least once in his life, he wants to wake up one morning and realize he’s forged a valuable relationship without even trying.

“What if I don’t want to talk?”

Castiel shakes his head, sighing in exasperation. “Careful. I’m going to think you only chose me as your partner for my body.”

“Would it be so wrong if I did?” Balthazzar grins, falling back horizontally on the bed and casually laying a hand on Castiel’s knee. “You’re quite a specimen, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve had lots of sex to prove it,” Castiel says dryly. He’d let something similar slip to Dean earlier during the Couple’s Choice Ceremony, though he wonders if by the look on Dean’s face he had taken it much more seriously than Castiel had meant him to. “So why are you here, if not to find love?” The last few words are accompanied by a sardonic twist to his lips, Castiel wanting to convey just how stupid he finds the concept. Because he does. He finds it stupid.

“You mean besides the inevitable wild sex we’re going to have?” Balthazar asks, raising an eyebrow. “I want the trip. As you may have figured out, I’m not originally from America and I rather miss my own country.”

“Maybe you could try visiting an airport,” Castiel suggests “They may be able to help you.”

Balthazar laughs, his hand sliding up to Castiel’s thigh. “Dear Cassie. I’ve been living off an inheritance for going on ten years now, and unfortunately my various business ventures have failed in doing anything but waste my money. I couldn’t even get my visa to fail, since I’ve got that damn dual citizenship. I was getting very desperate.”

Castiel smiles despite himself. “So what, you were planning on taking the winner’s trip until you wound up in London and then abandoning your poor partner?”

“Just part of the plan. I was also going to exploit my various connections around the world for more money wherever we stopped off. And I’m from Paris, darling. Please don’t upset me again or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Yes I’m sure I’d find your idea of punishment excruciating,” he agrees, glancing down at Balthazar’s hand, which is rubbing up and down his thigh.

“I’d make sure of it,” Balthazar purrs. “Bed time, do you think?”

“Time to sleep,” Castiel says firmly, pushing Balthazar’s hand away. “Would you like the bed?”

“I would indeed like the bed Cassie, but so would you. We’re both sleeping on the bed,” Balthazar replies, standing up and starting to strip his pants off right there. “No arguments.”

“I’m not arguing,” he replies, watching carefully. “You’re…proportional.”

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Well now that you’ve done such a fantastic job at wooing me, how about you draw me like one of your French girls? I am, after all, very French. I’m sure that’d fetch you a pretty penny.”

Castiel stops appreciating and studies him critically, as if he’s actually considering what Balthazar had said. “No, I don’t believe so,” he says finally.

“Well why not?”

“For one thing,” he replies, standing up and shucking his own shirt and pants as well, so that only his boxers remain, “there are people for that. They’re called life models.”

“Well ouch,” the bed creaks, but Castiel doesn’t turn around yet. “Am I not professional enough for you? I’d bet a good vintage you’d draw Dean if he asked. I’m very hurt and offended by my assumption Castiel, do you see what you’re doing to me? Granted, I’m not sure anybody but a female could beat those lips.”

“You are deliberately trying to provoke me.” Castiel finally turns around to find a fully naked Balthazar stretched out on the bed. He hadn’t been lying earlier, Balthazar is very attractive. Although he’s older than Castiel, he has much the same build, with a lean stomach and long legs.

“Is it working?” he asks. “Come on Cassie, get in the bed.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow but does as he’s told, climbing under the covers. “You do realize that they’re filming us, correct?”

“I hope they enjoy,” Balthazar says insolently, rolling on top of Castiel. Cas grunts and shifts a little, his pelvis brushing against Balthazar’s. Balthazar lets out a soft hiss as he looks hungrily down at Castiel.

“Are you planning on lying on top of me all night?”

“Only until you give in to the inevitable,” Balthazar grins.

***

Sam really enjoys sleeping in the same bed as Jess. She trusts him not to do anything funny, which is great (when he was younger Sam was always resigned to that type of treatment from women with Dean as his brother) and when he wakes up the next morning, she’s cuddled up against his side. Best of all, though she seems embarrassed, Jess isn’t upset at all that she’d practically slept on him all night, offering to let Sam use the shower first while she sleeps a little longer.

It’s all, he thinks as he washes his hair, very domestic. And as someone who’d craved domesticity as a child, it was strange that he wasn’t more excited about feeling it now. Dean had always worked as hard as he could when they were younger to give Sam a childhood in the wake of their mostly absent father and dead mom, but Sam had still had a hard time adjusting to the fact that Dean was the only true family he had.

Then here was Jess, who could fit easily into the family Sam wanted to create for himself, partly because he’d craved it for so long and partly in hopes that this in turn would cause Dean to go on and create a family of his own, instead of worrying about Sam.

So yeah, he should be way more excited than he actually is about the whole situation instead of getting distracted the way he is. Sam should not be thinking about other contestants, especially a certain someone who’s far less domestic and miles more intriguing than Jess has proved to be so far.

That’s unfair. He barely knows Jess at all. He barely knows Luke either.

He needs to stop thinking about Luke while he’s in the shower.

As Sam steps out of the shower and begins toweling himself off, he begins to reflect on how weird TV shows are. He had always thought it was ridiculous, watching stuff like _The Bachelor_ at home, how quickly the women seemed to fall in love. It all seemed so fake and rushed. Yet apparently it has something to do with the atmosphere of a dating game show, because here Sam is, already thinking about Jess as some sort of potential…wife or something.

He’s also seriously contemplating the problem of Luke, and why a little part of him cringes whenever he considers staying with Jess and seriously exploring that avenue.

This whole being on TV thing is seriously beginning to fuck with his head. They’re too isolated from the real world here.

He opens the bathroom door, towel slung low over his hips. “You can have the shower now,” he announces to the room at large, watching as Jess reluctantly rolls off the bed.

“Oh,” she says, eyes widening at the sight of him before she grins. “Good morning Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam says quietly, catching her hand as she walks by before deciding it’s too weirdly intimate and letting go. Jesus, something’s wrong with him. “We’ll go get breakfast when you’re dressed, sound good?”

Jess beams and nods. “Sounds great!” she replies, disappearing into the bathroom.

Sam sits down on the bed, still in his towel, and slowly massages his temples. He needs to pull himself together. He’s not so desperate for a family life that he needs to go crazy over it. He’s Sam fucking Winchester for god’s sake. And now that his inner voice is beginning to sound like Dean he really needs to stop this introspective exploration.

Sighing, he gets up, quickly changing into some of the workout clothes he’s been provided. Hopefully the challenge today won’t be too difficult. Then again, if it was difficult, there wouldn’t be as much time for the negotiating and “I want to be your partner” deals he’d had to go through two days before.

Sam hears the shower switch off as he’s tying his shoes, looking up to see that Jess is already dressed, wet curly hair pulled up into a high ponytail. “Am I the only one getting flashbacks to high school gym class?”

“Trust me, you are way more attractive than anything I ever saw in the locker rooms,” Sam assures her. “Ready for some breakfast? I hear there’s gonna be fresh fruit.”

“Hmm, I wonder how you know that?” Jess teases, letting him lead her out to the veranda. Unfortunately for Sam, most everyone’s up already, and he and Jess have to settle for the dregs of the breakfast food.

Sam watches sadly as Jess snags the last waffle and settles for some scrambled eggs. “Oh look, there’s Lisa and your brother! Let’s go sit with them!”

Sam manages to grab one more piece of bacon (what? He’s hungry) before following Jess over to the table Lisa and Dean are seated at. Lisa’s chatting animatedly while Dean concentrates on the large pile of food in front of him, nodding every once and a while as he chews.

“No wonder there’s no food for the rest of us,” Sam teases as soon as they reach the table.

“Hey, you snooze you lose, Lazypants,” Dean replies, eyes already assessing the food on Sam’s plate. Sam carefully edges it away from him and closer to Jess.

“Excuse me for not taking precautions. I don’t think you’ve ever been up before I have in your life.”

“Lisa,” Dean answers shortly, gesturing at her with his fork. “She woke up to do yoga or something.”

Lisa smiles at Sam. “I’m a yoga instructor back home.”

“I’ve always wanted to try yoga. Does it really strengthen your core?” Jess asks with interest.

Sam tunes out the conversation, focusing on the food in front of him. Not that he’s not interested in trying yoga (most everyone on campus is into it and he could barely turn around without seeing a girl with a rolled up yoga mat under her arm) but…who knows. He’s feeling weirdly dissatisfied and doesn’t feel much like talking. Luckily Jess and Lisa get up a moment later to go get some more orange juice and the chatter happening directly next to him is put on hold. Scanning the area, he catches sight of Castiel, who seems to be staring intently in his direction but doesn’t acknowledge Sam when he nods. Huh. A delighted shriek comes from over by the coffee maker where Gilda and Charlie are pelting one another with grapes. Luke and Bela watch on, Luke with a satisfied smirk on his face while Bela whispers something to him. Sam scowls. “Is this whole TV thing starting to make you feel weird?” he asks Dean.

“Huh, what?” Dean asks, eyes shooting back to meet Sam’s.

He frowns at the strange behavior, wondering what Dean had been looking at, but continues, “You know, just…being on TV. Does your brain feel messed up somehow?”

“Pretty sure your brain’s always messed up,” Dean says, sending him a crooked grin. “But yeah, I know what you mean. You eatin’ bacon for instance. What’s wrong, your stomach finally catching up with your massive body? And I’m thinkin’ weird things, which is all your fault, by the way.”

“What? Shut up,” Sam frowns, pushing the offending plate away. “How is it my fault?”

“You know,” Dean waves his hand, taking a healthy sip of coffee. “I didn’t even want to be here Sam. And now that you’ve got me here, I’m being forced to think about stuff.”

“Stuff,” Sam says flatly, raising an eyebrow.

Dean grimaces at him. “What-to-do-after-Cassie stuff, you dickbag.”

Sam feels a jolt of happiness. Finally, he’s taking care of Dean instead of the other way around. Of course he can’t be too excited, or Dean will immediately back off. “That’s good,” he says carefully. “You should keep thinking that stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs. “Don’t get your panties all in an excited twist. I’m not going to fall in love with anyone or anything here Sam. Probably not even gonna date any of ‘em. But at least I can get the fuck off your couch when we get home.”

“That’s good,” Sam nods encouragingly as Lisa and Jess reappear. Jess sets a glass of orange juice down in front of Sam, even though he hadn’t asked for one, but he notices that Lisa hasn’t done the same for Dean.

“What’s good?” Lisa asks, sliding into her chair beside Dean again and snagging a piece of bacon off of his plate. Dean commits himself to a half-hearted dejected look at the theft before pushing his plate away.

“Dean’s getting over a break up,” Sam explains, and at this his brother sends him a withering look.

“Really,” she says with interest. “So am I, although I have to be proud of the fact that I’m handling it better than my son.”

“Your son?” Dean repeats. Sam winces internally. Dean claims to love kids, and Sam has to admit he’s seen the evidence of it. He’s fairly certain Dean even wanted some, someday. But dating chicks with kids, as Dean had told Sam before, was trouble with a capital T. Too much responsibility. Which is a shame, because Sam likes Lisa a lot. Unfortunately this wouldn’t be the first time one of Dean’s weird dating hang ups stopped him from getting serious with someone.

“His name is Ben, he’s ten,” Lisa smiles. “I can show you some pictures when we get back to the cabin later.”

Sam waits for the inevitable decline of interest, the rift he was surely about to see appear right before his eyes.

Yet to Sam’s surprise, it never comes. “Sure,” Dean replies easily. “Remind me when this stupid challenge is over. I’m gonna get more coffee, anybody else want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Sam says quickly, once again leaving the girls alone. It doesn’t escape his notice that he’s paying much more attention to Dean and Dean’s love life rather than his own, but whatever. His is all fucked up anyway. And besides, it actually seems to be _working_ for Dean.

Dean gives Sam a weird look but doesn’t say anything, picking up both of their coffee mugs. “Something on your mind, Sammy?”

“What happened to the no kids rule?”

“What, you mean don’t date chicks with kids? It’s still in play.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “But Lisa…”

Dean takes one look at his face and laughs. “Dude, I’m not gonna date Lisa. I’m considering messing around with her maybe, if she wants to, but I’m not going to date her. Decided last night I’m not gonna deal with any relationship crap anymore, serious or not. Just gonna let things be, you know? I mean why should I work so hard for future rejections when I’ve got you, right?”

Shit. No, no, no, this is not what Sam wants. Sam wants Dean to make his own friends, his own connections. “Right.”

Dean nods along with him. “Right. So I figure I’ll just, you know. Whatever happens, happens.”

Great, so now Sam has to make sure that ‘whatever happens’ is Dean finding a meaningful relationship. It feels like he’s in his four hundred level Economics class all over again – the one that was impossible to do well in and completely lacking in any understandable instructions.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam says without any enthusiasm as they reach the coffee machine where Bela and Luke were still loitering. He can see Luke watching him over the rim of his own coffee mug as Bela continues to talk to him. “But I’m not sure that’s the healthiest way to look at life, Dean.”

“Eh,” Dean studiously avoids looking anywhere but at the steady stream of rich black coffee now pouring into his cup. “Dude, this thing is like something outta Star Trek. We need one at home.” Sam agrees absently and glances around to find Cas doing his best to burn a hole into the back of Dean’s head. He coughs pointedly and Cas defiantly meets his gaze before returning his attention to an excitedly gesturing Balthazar. Hell, no wonder Dean’s trying his best not to look around, Cas’ gaze is incredibly intense.

Actually, this would explain a lot.

“Dean, is this because of what happened with Cas yesterday?”

Dean glances sharply at him, taking his mug to shove under the fancy coffee maker. “What the hell happened with Cas yesterday?”

“He dumped you as a partner,” Sam says, and yeah, the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes, “and you thought you guys might be friends, didn’t you? You kind of clicked right away.”

“We weren’t gonna be friends,” Dean says in affronted disgust. “Besides, being dumped is part of the game, man. This has nothing to do with Cas.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam shrugs. Because it so clearly does have something to do with Cas. If Sam wants to get him to talk about it though, he’ll have to catch Dean at the right time.

“Drop it Sammy,” Dean warns, taking his coffee cup back. “I’m not some head case for you to play around in.”

“Consider it dropped.”

Dean smiles, although Sam can tell he doesn’t really believe him, and heads back to their table. According to the coffee maker, Sam still has twenty seven seconds to stand here and wait until his coffee is the perfect temperature.

“What an interesting family you are.” Bela had gone off somewhere but Luke remains, leaning against one of the wooden posts that hold up the veranda.

“I think the word complicated works better,” Sam mutters in reply, not really wanting to talk to Luke. Every time he did his thoughts got fucked up even more than they already were.

“Well that’s what interesting means,” he says smoothly. “You just want what’s best for your older brother, and he refuses to see that. I’m getting a sickening sense of déjà vu.”

Sam looks at Luke despite himself. “Déjà vu to what?”

Luke shrugs. “It’s familiar somehow. Maybe I read it in a book somewhere. Perhaps I have a familial experience of my own. Ah well. See you on the adventure Sam.” With a small smile, Luke steps off the veranda and heads back towards the cabins.

Sam just shakes his head and grabs his coffee. It’s like he was the only person here who knew how to have a normal conversation.

***

“Cassie, if you keep staring at Dean I’m going to get jealous.”

Castiel tears his gaze away from Dean. They’re standing in a line out in some remote location again, waiting for Gabriel to show up so they can start the adventure. Castiel gets the feeling Gabriel likes to make people wait for him, judging by how unfazed Jody seems as she stands and chats with a random PA. Meanwhile the cameramen move restlessly around them, trying to find room to maneuver around the thick layer of plants covering the ground. Just like last time, Castiel can see the glint of sun hitting water through the trees if he looks hard enough. “I’m just trying to get him to look at me.”

Balthazar wrinkles his nose. “Why? Unless you’re projecting thoughts of all the filthy things we did last night at him.”

Castiel shakes his head in exasperation. “If you’re counting being forced to share the same bed as you in no clothes as filthy Balthazar, you have no imagination. I want him to look at me because he won’t.” Castiel hasn’t received the full force of those bright green eyes in quite a while, and it was starting to annoy him. He’s an artist. He, out of everyone else in the world, should be allowed the courtesy of studying things in detail.

Dean’s eyes are incredibly expressive, much different from the dead eyes Castiel is used to seeing in New York or Boston. Sometimes he’d see fabricated expressions, sure, even some real emotion once in a while. But Dean had the amazingly unique ability of conveying every one of his inner feelings through his eyes.

He also possesses features and a profile that increasingly reminds Castiel of the angels he used to draw as a child, but he’d rather not think about that.

It bothers him that Dean is keeping up this childish game of avoiding all kinds of contact, but Castiel’s going to keep telling himself he’s only bothered because then he can’t study Dean’s face as easily. He will not stoop to Dean’s level and start avoiding contact in return. He’s above such pettiness. His style is much more to do the exact opposite of what Dean is doing in the hopes that it will annoy him.

Well fuck, he’s daydreaming as he stares at his profile again.

“I know he’s pretty Castiel, but really?”

“I’m going to draw him,” Castiel replies abruptly without thinking. “I need to look at him.”

Balthazar withdraws the hand he’d been about to lay on Castiel’s arm, and he belated realizes that he’d rather rudely turned down Balthazar’s offer for the same thing last night. “He’s an interesting character study,” Castiel explains, feeling awkward for the first time since he’d giving up caring what other people thought in college.

“No need to apologize, if that is what you were trying to do,” Balthazar shrugs with a small upturn of his lips. “I know I’m old and decrepit. Not nearly as fun to draw.”

“You’re also not nearly as attractive when you pout as you think you are.”

“Let me have something,” Balthazar sighs.

Gabriel finally comes into sight, half eaten Twix bar in hand as he strolls to his usual spot in front of the line of contestants. “Piece of advice for everyone here,” he says loudly, “left Twix is always better than right Twix.”

“Yer wasting money Gabriel!” Bobby yells from his slouched position against a tree. “Just get started, how many times do I have ta tell ya?”

“Not my money old man!” he calls cheerfully, shoving his wrapper at a PA regardless and dusting his hands off. “Rolling? Speed? Marker?”

“Just start your damn rambling Gabriel.”

“Welcome to the second adventure!” Gabriel says, falling easily into cheesy host mode. “Congratulations for those of you who are still here- it means there’s still hope for you. Today I thought we’d do something a little more interesting, a little more dangerous…there’s a small island out on the lake down yonder, called Snake Island. Asked the locals about it and from what I can tell they say absolutely under no circumstances should we set foot on the island. So I’m not going to, but I thought you guys should do it for me.”

“Seriously?” Castiel mutters as one of the girls gasps. “Snakes? It’s the second episode and already we’re out of original ideas.”

“Don’t be snarky Cassie,” Balthazar murmurs.

“Now on the island is a plane wreck, and with the plane wreck is the plane’s cargo. I need you all to grab a canoe, row to the island, find the plane wreck and bring me back one of the crates. All without getting eaten or poisoned or whatever it is snakes like to do. Everyone gets a map again so those of you with a sense of direction can find the wreck. Same rules as in literally every contest, first ones back win.” Gabriel looks around expectantly at all of them, like he’s waiting for a smart ass comment. When none come he sighs and claps his hands. “Alright. On your marks, get set, go!”

“Is the way this show works at all up to par?” Balthazar complains as he and Castiel set off into the trees at a quick pace.

“I don’t know,” Castiel replies. “I don’t watch TV.”

“Ah that’s right. You’re a special, culturally rich snowflake.”

The trees break to reveal a waterfront, a long line of canoes leading all the way down to the edge of the lake. Anna and Victor have already taken the canoe all the way at the front, so Castiel heads for the second one, not wanting to pull the thing any further than he has to. He’s pretty sure Balthazar won’t be much help with the manual labor part. “Find the map,” Castiel instructs, picking up the rope tied to the front of the bow and beginning to drag the canoe right behind Victor.

“Yes, sir,” Balthazar replies sarcastically, and a moment of searching the inside of the canoe has the map open in his hands.

“Hey, where’d you find that?” Anna asks, looking back at them. “We can’t find ours!”

“What a horrible tragedy.” Balthazar says flippantly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “It’s stuck under the lip of the side.”

“Thanks Cas,” Anna smiles, bending down and struggling to find the map as Victor continues to pull their canoe. Castiel wonders where she’d picked up that nickname – although everyone here seems to have some aversion towards calling him Castiel.

“Now you do realize you’re not supposed to help other teams win, correct?”

“I’m building good karma,” Castiel says dryly, looking behind them. Bela and Luke are trailing right behind, and Cas can see Dean further back with Sam, both of them pulling their canoes together. They finally reach the water and Castiel splashes in without hesitation, the weight of the canoe disappearing as the water takes on the load.

“Get in,” he orders Balthazar, clambering in and grabbing the paddles. He makes sure to sit in the back so he can steer.

“I’d have appreciated it more if you were this bossy last night,” Balthazar says petulantly, climbing in and grabbing the paddle Castiel offers him. “Why can’t I be the leader?”

Castiel grits his teeth before making an effort to relax his jaw, leaning back a little in the boat. Balthazar is starting to get on his nerves. “Fine. Lead.”

Anna and Victor have pulled ahead by a considerable amount, and Castiel can see Bela and Luke situating themselves into their canoe right next to them. Several distinct splashes tell him that everybody else isn’t far behind.

Balthazar is making an admittedly hilarious attempt at running his paddle through the water, but without Castiel it isn’t doing much. “Alright, fine. I see your point. Please paddle Cassie, I want to go to the Oasis.”

“Thank you,” Castiel grumbles, touching his paddle to the water, opposite side of the canoe that Balthazar is trying to row. Immediately the boat begins to move and soon they’re within an easily manageable distance of Anna and Victor, although Bela and Luke aren’t too far behind.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“I haven’t looked at the map,” Balthazar answers, keeping his eyes on the movement of the paddle. “I believe we’re just following Anna and Victor.”

Castiel briefly closes his eyes, a muttered, “great,” escaping his lips.

“If you’re so worried about it then you look at the blasted map,” Balthazar points out. “I’m not a navigator.”

“Balthazar, do you want to do everything or nothing at all? Please make up your mind so those involved can adjust to your needs.”

“Yes, fine, I’m very spoiled. Thank you for pointing it out Cassie. Can we just get to the damn island?”

The rest of the relatively short canoe trip is spent in silence until they bump up onto the land, Anna and Victor’s canoe already tied to a post and bobbing gently in the water. “Surely they overhyped the amount of snakes on this hunk of rock?” Balthazar says, hopping out of the canoe and throwing the paddle in behind him. Castiel follows him out as well, making sure to tie the boat up so it won’t drift away.

“Hopefully there are none at all.”

“Don’t like snakes?” Balthazar inquires, passing him the map.

“Not particularly.” Castiel opens the map, his eyes scanning it quickly before he turns to the right and begins climbing through the trees. “I believe it’s this way.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because the map said so,” he explains patiently.

“Cheeky bastard,” Balthazar snorts. “Why is it you don’t like snakes? I find them to be rather charming.”

Castiel considers saying something generic, but decides to tell the truth in the hopes that it will get Balthazar to focus. “They’re too close to the ground,” he replies shortly, before adding, “My family was very religious. My father never made light of the fact that Lucifer used the form of a snake to ruin humanity.”

“So it’s only a silly religious thing?”

“I’m not religious anymore,” he replies, frowning at the word silly. “But some things tend to stick.”

“Fair enough,” Balthazar points ahead of them. “Look, you were correct. I believe I do see a badly staged plane wreck.”

Balthazar is right. As they move through the trees a small two passenger plane is revealed, the front nose and the left wing crumpled. The body of the plane is also buckled, as if a giant foot had stepped on it. Wooden crates litter the ground around the plane.

“Clearly some poor soul has perished here,” Balthazar says dramatically.

“There are still nine crates,” Castiel says, doing a quick count.

“Maybe Anna and Victor stopped for a quickie,” Balthazar says brightly. “Good news for us, whatever the reason. We can grab a crate and be at the Oasis for dinner.”

“I suppose you want me to carry the crate.”

“If only to save my back, Cassie.”

Luke and Bela come tromping through the underbrush just as Castiel bends down to lift a crate, only to give a yell of surprise and two hasty steps backwards.

“What the hell?” Bela asks.

“They’re covered in snakes,” Castiel replies, taking a deep breath. Now that he’s looking properly, he can’t believe he didn’t see them before, although the one he did notice is remarkably similar to the color of the crate it was lying on.

“Excellent reaction,” Luke tells him, crouched down and carefully picking snakes off of the crate nearest to him. “The Academy awards you a complimentary dinner.”

“I wasn’t acting,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Any solutions Balthazar?”

“They seem quite harmless.”

Castiel opens his eyes to see Balthazar following Luke’s example and carefully picking up the snakes. Catching Castiel’s eye, he holds the one in his hand out to him. “See?”

“Please don’t,” Castiel says tightly.

“They just want to be your friends,” Luke grins, standing up and coming closer to Castiel. One of the smaller snakes is curled around Luke’s forearm, the head cradled carefully in his hand. Castiel watches it warily as it flicks its long tongue out at him.

“Well I don’t blame Castiel,” Bela sniffs. “They’re pretty filthy.”

“You’re not filthy, are you?” Luke coos, holding his hand out to Castiel. He takes yet another step back, bumping into Balthazar, who it turns out, is still holding on to his snake.

Stepping back one last time, Castiel speaks as firmly as he can while keeping an eye on both Balthazar and Luke. “Don’t.”

Luke takes another step towards him, about to say something else when rustling leaves reveal the arrival of another group. Cas looks back straight into the bright eyes of Dean, and it takes only a second of him assessing the scene before him for them to darken into a scowl. “Hey douchebags, I’m sure Cas told you to leave him the fuck alone, so why don’t you?”

Castiel feels a surge of something huge and unrecognizable before shame hits him like a load of bricks. He’d been bullied through high school and during his freshman year of college for being the crazy religious kid, the one who was constantly drawing angels. He’d changed all that and learned to stick up for himself - he certainly didn’t need Dean helping him now.

“Watch out, Prince Charming to the rescue,” Bela sings.

Dean turns to face her, but before he can say anything Castiel speaks up, “I don’t need you to defend me Dean.”

He barely even turns to glance at him, choosing instead to keep staring Bela down. “You weren’t doing anything.”

“I was handling it,” Castiel says icily.

This time Dean turns fully to face him. Bela and Luke have taken advantage of the situation, Luke hefting the crate over his shoulder and leading Bela off in the direction they’d come from. Balthazar, miraculously, is quiet, and Lisa watches on quietly as well, using her rolled up map to push snakes off of one of the crates.

“You were handling it,” Dean says shortly, expression grim. “That why you were cringing away like they were offering you happy pills they’d picked up off the side of the road?”

"I was fine,” Castiel growls. “I didn’t need you to save me due to some misguided hero complex. First Lisa, now me. Do you feel such obligation to all of your supposed romantic interests? Are you going to save a baby bird and be its partner next?”

“Hey, you were the one who switched on me Cas!” Dean barks. “Next time I’ll leave ya alone, alright? Die on the side of the road for all I care!”

“Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand,” Castiel replies, his voice eerily calm even to his own ears. “I deserve respect, Dean. Do not treat me as if I am helpless.”

There’s a crowd now, Jo, Benny, Charlie and Gilda having arrived while Castiel and Dean stare each other down. Castiel can hear Sam’s voice and figures he and Jess are close to making it to the clearing too. He and Balthazar need to leave if they want any chance of catching up with Bela and Luke, but Dean is making him angry in ways he hasn’t been in years.

He’s staring at him in slight disbelief, green eyes clouded with frustration and righteous anger. “That’s what you think this is?” he asks finally. “Whatever. Fuck you Cas. You ready to go Lise?”

“I’m not sure I can carry this alone,” she answers quietly. Dean turns around and it was if a rope snapped between them, releasing Castiel’s gaze. He abruptly turns to find Balthazar holding their crate, now clear of any snakes.

“Let’s go,” he says, offering one end of the crate to Castiel. He takes it so they’re both carrying the admittedly heavy load, and he finds the trail of tramped down plants their boots had made before so they could follow it back to the lake.

“I’m sorry about teasing you Cassie,” Balthazar says after a moment. “I hadn’t realized they bothered you that much.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel says in a tone that clearly indicates he doesn’t want to talk. Funny thing is, he really didn’t care all that much that Balthazar had been an asshole. Mostly he’s concerned with the fact that, though Dean seems to hate his guts, he hadn’t been. Castiel’s entire defense mechanism has been built on deliberately controlling how people act towards him, mostly by just saying whatever he wants with a don’t care attitude. Dean keeps ruining it by continuing to act like he gives a damn about him.

Finally they reach the canoes, the large group of people they’d been with by the wreck not far behind. Anna and Victor must have finally found the river, because Castiel can hear Anna urging Victor on.

“How are we meant to get this in the boat without tipping it?” Balthazar asks, looking skeptically at the small canoe.

“You climb in first and then I’ll try handing it to you,” Castiel suggests. Balthazar drops his end of the crate and carefully gets in, holding his hands out so Castiel can lift the awkward wooden box and hand it to him.

The boat wobbles but Balthazar manages to keep it upright, tucking the crate between the two wooden bench seats. Castiel is able to climb in easily after that.

Anna and Victor reach their boat as soon as Castiel is settled, Charlie and Gilda and Benny and Jo not far behind. Dean, true gentleman that he is, is carrying the crate over his shoulder without any help from Lisa, and is therefore still farther back. Sam’s next to him, carrying his own crate the same way, and he wonders if Dean’s scowling face paired with Sam’s placating one means that they were talking about him. Yeah, he really could be that self-centered.

They got across the lake much faster this time, rowing quickly to stay ahead of everyone else. With Balthazar’s help Castiel’s able to row almost without thinking, his mind set only on the task of making it back to Gabriel so this whole day can be over with.

“I am truly sorry Castiel,” Balthazar speaks up again as they’re carefully unloading the crate. “Didn’t mean to cause a spat between you and Deano.”

“Dean already dislikes me, I hardly think that fight has done a significant amount of damage to our blossoming relationship,” Castiel says sarcastically.

“Either way, I hope it hasn’t done any damage to ours,” he says, and to Castiel’s surprise Balthazar sounds half serious.

“I don’t believe so,” he says easily. “I consider you a bearable companion.”

“As long as there’s a ‘with benefits’ tagged to the end of that, this could be the start of something beautiful.”

Castiel sends him a smirk. “How long are you going to persist in trying to get me to have sex with you?”

“As long as it takes to get you spread bare-arsed on my bed,” Balthazar grins cheekily.

Castiel rolls his eyes, beginning to walk faster when he sees Gabriel leaning on a large tree, a stick of licorice hanging from his mouth and a bored expression on his face. There’s a pile of wood next to him that suggests that Bela and Luke have already come and gone, with the added bonus of being allowed to open their crate.

“Hey Cassie, Balthy!” Gabriel says delightedly as soon as they stop in front of him. “Second place, congratulations, it means nothing! Although you did a little better this time, eh Castiel?”

“Most likely because I am with a better partner.”

“Heh,” Gabriel grinned. “So you think you two are a good match?”

“I can tolerate him, at the very least,” Castiel says quickly, eager to reply before Balthazar can make any more cutting remarks.

“Well then it must be true love. Here come Victor and Anna, you two clear on out and go celebrate however you want. Toodles!”

“Every time I hear him talk I can’t decide if I’m more annoyed or amused,” Balthazar murmurs quietly in Castiel’s ear. Castiel nods. He agrees with Balthazar, although it’s hard for him to tell how he feels about most people and therefore not surprising. He dealt with people with his guard up, and though Balthazar may think so, Castiel hasn’t really opened up to him at all, or even allowed him the same closeness Castiel would allow a friend. He really does tolerate him, as he had told Gabriel, and he’s amenable to exploring a relationship. It’s just that at this point Castiel is also equally amenable to not exploring a relationship.

“If it’s alright with you, I think I’m going to go off on my own for a while,” Castiel says when they reach the cabins.

“Ah, are you going to do that artist thing then? In New York I always see the young kids sitting in Starbucks staring moodily into their coffee cups.”

“Yes, I often did that too,” he says seriously. “However a change of scenery is always nice.”

“Alright, go off and have your special time,” Balthazar snorts. “I’ll see you at dinner, I suppose?”

“Yes, I think I can manage that,” Castiel smiles, already trying to decide exactly where he wants to take his sketchbook. He needs to start drawing things he’s fine with being shown on camera, so at least something can come out of this ridiculous trip. Like a continuation of his current employment.

***

Dean is soaking wet. And not in the good, enjoyable way. More like in the way that said he’s been fucking around in a scummy lake for way longer than he should have been.

For some reason he could not get back into the fucking canoe. Lisa had gotten in alright, and they’d gotten the crate situated, but Dean had tipped the damn thing just enough to let buckets of water rush in. Then there’d been no stopping it. He and Lisa had been forced to drag the weighed down canoe back to shore, dump all the water out, and then get in again.

Needless to say, they’d come in last. And as Gabriel so happily informed them, that meant they were at a big risk of going home unless they could find other people to partner up with.

“Do you still want to see some pictures?” Lisa asks. She’s sitting cross legged on the bed, already changed into a tank top and shorts. Dean finishes peeling off his soaked shirt and throws it with disgust to the other side of the room, glancing at her.

“Of Ben? Yeah sure.”

He grabs his jeans and pulls them over his still damp boxer briefs, padding over to the bed and sitting down next to Lisa. “You got a photo album or something?”

“Don’t tell anybody,” she says, lips tugging into a smile as she presses a finger to them in the universal sign for ‘shh’. “I snuck my iPod in here.”

“Really,” Dean laughs, watching as she stretches across the bed and fishes it out of her bag on the floor. “You’re craftier than I thought.”

“Since we’re probably going home anyway, I figure it doesn’t matter if they see,” Lisa shrugs, sitting back up and swiping a finger across the screen of the iPod. A moment or two later, she hands it to Dean. “There’s Ben.”

“He plays baseball?” he asks, studying the picture on screen. The kid is dark haired and dark eyed, just like Lisa, all dressed up in baseball gear and grinning wildly at the camera.

“Loves it,” she smiles wistfully. “Takes after his dad.”

“What, uh…what happened to him?”

“His dad? Couldn’t hack it, I guess. He left when Ben was two. I’m kind of grateful for it though, I’d rather he did that than just stick around and be an inattentive father.”

“Yeah.” Dean knows exactly how that is. Shoving the iPod back at Lisa, he looks at her questionably. “Were you really trying to find him a new dad here?”

“Not really,” she laughs. “I think…I think that’s what my relationships have been caught up in lately, in trying to find a good guy Ben would like. I needed to step away. Sometimes you just have to find someone for yourself, you know? Instead of dating the people you think everyone else wants you to date.”

Dean’s glad Sam isn’t here to hear this, because he’d be getting an earful right about now on how, ‘but Dean this is exactly what you’re going through’ and ‘I told you shouldn’t marry Cassie just because you think you should’.

So yeah, there it was. He can admit it to himself, he’s man enough. He’d asked Cassie to marry him because he thought it was time. Date a girl for a while and it was just what you did, right? Besides, Cassie was cool, Dean would’ve loved to have kids with her. He was pretty sure Dad would’ve liked her if he was still around and Sam liked her well enough, so that was all Dean really needed, right? He liked her, his family liked her, they’d dated for a while…

Guess it didn’t work that way.

Except he had been dating Cassie for himself, not for anyone else. He was pretty sure of that. So Sam could just get the fuck out of his head. There’s still no good reason for him to be here, even if it has been a month…ok, fine, two months since Cassie dumped him.

Well, at least if Sammy has been worried about Dean dating chicks for the world’s approval, he didn’t have to anymore. Because now Dean just wasn’t dating anybody.

Man, he’s such a good person. He’d just made life a whole lot easier on everybody.

“Do you think Jody would get me any alcohol if I asked nicely?” he speaks up. He’s tired of thinking, Jack is usually a good way to stop that.

Lisa glances up from her iPod, eyes a little watery around the edges.”Probably,” she sniffs. “If anyone could charm her into it, it’d be you.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks in alarm. Crying women are never good. Ever. Especially if it’s his fault somehow. He only ever manages to make things worse.

“You just got me thinking,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “I’m fine. I want to stay here and explore more, but I also miss Ben, you know? It’s a shame we’re going to be split up.”

“Damn shame,” Dean agrees. “I know I’m a catch, but it’s probably nothing to cry over.” He smiles at Lisa, patting her awkwardly on the back. “I’m sorry I suck so much Lisa, I just don’t know if this show is really for me.”

“I get that. Actually, I get the feeling nothing could ever work out between us, no matter how hard we tried. I mean you’re definitely attractive—“

“You too,” he says, trying to cut her off before this becomes sharing and caring time. “I see what you mean though, we’re both probably looking for different things.”

Dean’s not looking for anything at all, so he feels like it’s a pretty safe assumption.

“You’re a good guy Dean,” Lisa smiles, tossing the iPod on the bed and standing up. “I’m going to go mingle and try to find somebody willing to pair up with me. Do you want to come with? We can try tag teaming.”

“I’ll come out there with you, but I’m not groveling.”

“You should probably put a shirt on first,” she says, giving him and appraising look. “Or don’t. You’ll probably get a lot more attention.”

“I get enough of that on my own,” Dean teases, happy that everything is light and easy again. Sammy was right, this TV show really is fucking with everyone’s heads. Grabbing a Henley from his pile of clothes in the corner he throws it on, slipping an unbuttoned shirt on over it. Feels good to be dressed like himself again.

Holding the door open for Lisa, he lets her lead him down the path to the pool, although he continues to walk as she stops to talk to Anna, who’s sitting on the steps outside her cabin. What he really wants to do is find Sam and ask him how his day with Jess went, but Jo spots him first from her place on a pool chair and for some reason, calls him over.

Dean approaches warily. From what he figures, Jo probably doesn’t have any reason to like him after he’d discouraged her a couple of days ago. He can bet she doesn’t want to talk to him about being partners, since she and Benny seem to be getting along perfectly, so all he can do is brace himself for insults.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you sucked at working with other people, huh?”Jo asks, and although it’s a jab at his character, her tone is lighthearted. Dean instantly relaxes, dropping into a chair across from her.

“I don’t see you and Benny coming in first place, Miss Josie. Where is your man, anyway?”

“One,” Jo says pertly, holding up a finger, “it’s Miss Joanna Beth to you. Two, Benny’s off trying to get into the kitchen or something.”

"Kitchen?” he asks with interest. “We’re allowed to cook here?” Man that’d be great. He loved cooking, maybe if he was allowed to do some it would get his mind off of things.

She shrugs. “Benny’s a chef, I think he’s trying to convince Jody to let him help out. What, are you a chef too?”

“Nah, but I always cooked for my family growing up and I work from home a lot, so I ended up cooking for me and my ex too. It’s a damn good past time.”

“Well, if Benny ever finds a way in I can have him let you know,” she offers. “As long as you’re good I doubt anybody will really care anyway.”

“I’m passable,” he shrugs. “S’pose it doesn’t matter though, since I came in last.”

“Oh please,” Jo snorts.

Dean side eyes her. “Please,” he repeats.

“Yeah, please. As if you don’t know you’ll be snatched up well before you have to go home.”

“Is that so? Who’s snapping me up Jo?”

“Not me,” she smirks. “I don’t do well with people who don’t work well with people.”

Dean groans. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Absolutely not. If you’d just told me you didn’t think I was pretty we could have been friends way sooner.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re pretty,” he corrects, holding his thumb and his forefinger an inch apart. “You’re just so…tiny.”

Jo glares at him. “I could take you in a fight any day,” she says, the tone of her voice dripping with so much conviction Dean actually believes her.

“I meant to say young. You’re way too young for me.”

“How old are you supposed to be?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Jo stares at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his face. Dean suddenly becomes consciously aware that he hasn’t shaved since he got here, and that, paired with his choice of clothing, probably makes him look like the degenerate he used to be and still is, sometimes. “Alright, so you’re too old for me,” she amends. “You didn’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“Now wait a minute,” Dean says, somehow now inexplicably offended that she was agreeing with him. “How old is Benny?”

Jo raises an eyebrow at him, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she answers, “Thirty-four.”

“How old are you?” he demands.

“Twenty-one,” she states, starting to look annoyed.

“Jesus, what are you even doing here? You can’t have had time to date people properly,” Dean says, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “Benny’s gotta be too old for you too, if I am.”

“Geez, chill out Dean,” Jo huffs, pushing at his shoulder. Dean hadn’t realized he’d been leaning so close, practically hovering over her. “Go play big brother to someone else.”

Dean falls back easily with her push, frowning. “Ok, fine. But I’m here if you need anything.”

“Wow, thanks,” she says sarcastically, though she can’t hide her small smile. More people are appearing around the pool area, Benny included, so Dean gets up, stretching and shooting Benny a lazy smirk.

“Get out of here,” Jo demands, kicking at his leg. “I regret starting this friendship.”

“You couldn’t have started anything without my permission,” Dean tells her smugly, lifting his eyes to meet Benny’s as he strolls over to him. Dean can see why Jo hadn’t seemed put off by his scruffiness – the guy’s approaching the advanced stages of full on lumberjack, while Dean is still hovering somewhere around the starting line.

Dean can easily see Benny kneeled on the concrete floor next to him, cover in sawdust and sweat and painstakingly sanding down a table leg. Maybe that’s what makes him stick out his hand. “Hey. I don’t think we’ve officially met. Dean Winchester.”

“Benny Lafitte,” Benny eyes him warily, glancing down at Jo. “You two need another moment?”

“No,” Jo makes a face. “Is Jody going to let you into the kitchen?”

“She said if I behaved,” Benny drawls, smiling easily at her.

“So that’s a no then.”

“Hey,” Dean says, feeling bad for interrupting but doing it anyway. He doesn’t really want to be around for the flirt fest. It makes him uncomfortable. “You mind letting me know next time you try to get in? I’d love to get my hands dirty.”

“You cook?” Benny regards him with interest for the first time since they’d begun talking. Dean wonders if there’s some kind of chef’s tell, like how he can measure the ability of another carpenter by how rough their hands are.

“Not like you do I hear,” he says. “But yeah, I can do it. I fed Sammy, and look at him.”

“He the giant kid?” Benny gives him a slow smile. “That’s some good cooking, brother.”

Dean opens his mouth to answer – and start spewing about how great Sam is and how proud he is of him, he swears, he can feel it coming like vomit – when Bela smoothly interjects, almost like she’s been part of the conversation all along. “Did I hear you say your name was Winchester?”

“Maybe,” he replies, evasiveness a habit he still hasn’t been able to break from childhood.

Bela’s eyes gleam though, and she plows on. “Was your father John Winchester?”

Dean stares hard at her. She doesn’t look like she’s in the business, but she certainly has the right attitude, and he doesn’t really feel like taking chances in front of two people that actually seem to like him. “You want to go for a walk with me, Bela?”

“Sure,” she smiles mischievously, telling Benny, “if I don’t return with him, you’ll know where to look for the body.”

“Sure thing,” Benny nods, though the concerned look on his face is aimed more towards Dean. Dean’s pretty sure he knows what’s going on though, so he’s not worried.

"Come on princess. Off into the wild we go.”

“There’s a camera at two and another at four,” Bela murmurs quietly as they began to walk. “There’s also a man just beyond the tree line that will begin to follow us as soon as we pass him.”

“Well what do you want to do?” Dean asks, batting at a branch in his way. “Pretty weak if you can’t figure out how to say what you want in front of a camera.”

Bela sniffs and somehow manages to make it sound haughty. “Yes and I’m sure the reason I never saw you out with your father is because you’re so good, correct?”

“Nah, I just wasn’t his apprentice anymore,” Dean says, the insult rolling off his back like water. He’s heard that one before too, and proved it wrong too many times for it to bother him anymore. “And I’m retired now, so you better not be hitting me up for any freelancing.”

“I’m currently on hiatus. The job market is getting crowded, especially for me. I’m afraid I’m not used to the dirty work you Winchesters are.”

“So how the hell did you know dad?”

“We crossed paths, it happens,” she sighs. “I really only wanted to satisfy my curiosity. You’re much brasher than he was.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dean replies. “Shouldn’t you be at the Oasis?”

“Yes, yes, I’m going. Luke wanted to get something from the cabin first.” She rolls her eyes. “I sincerely hope he doesn’t believe we’re having sex.”

“Yeah, I’m not here for that talk,” he says, rounding on her. Backing her into a nearby tree, he braces his hands on either side of her head, leaning close. “I’m not here to talk about my past, got it? I’m gonna get real angry if I hear it mentioned again.”

“Relax,” Bela purrs. “I have absolutely no intention of spilling that secret. Not unless there’s something in it for me. Now go ahead and kiss me for the camera and we can be on our way.”

Dean swears quietly under his breath, searching Bela’s eyes for any sign that she’s lying. It really is unfortunate that one of dad’s friends happened to show up here, and he can’t help but think again about how this is Sam’s fault. Or fate’s. Same thing, all he knows is it’s not his fault.

Really he has no choice but to trust Bela though, and because a dumb camera is trained on them and doing anything but kissing her would make this whole position really awkward, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

He pulls back as soon as he feels her tongue against his lips, because that’s got to be some sort of violation, right?

"So we’ve got a deal right? Keep your mouth shut?”

Bela tilts her head in a way that reminds him disturbingly of Cas, all fake confused even though she really knows exactly what’s going on. Except on Cas it’s kind of uncannily adorable, and Bela just makes it look calculating.

Holy shit, he did _not_ just think the word adorable out loud. Or in his head. Whatever. Not adorable. Especially not in relation to Cas. Jesus Christ Dean, shut the hell up.

“Sealed with a kiss, Dean.”

***

Despite spending the whole day with Jess, Sam is still confused. His thoughts and feelings are one giant tangled up mess he’s too hesitant to try and sort out. He does know he really likes Jess, he just isn’t very sure what he wants to do with that information. So he’s doing nothing.

And he wonders why he hasn’t had a long term girlfriend in over two years.

Actually, he’s beginning to think he maybe has more of a problem than Dean, and that’s really saying something. Except his problem is the opposite – while Dean wants nothing serious, Sam wants something serious so badly he’s desperate for it. What a pair they make.

His musings are interrupted as he opens his cabin door to find Luke sitting on the bed, idly flipping a pocket knife through his fingers.

“Uh. Can I help you?”

“Ah, Sam,” Luke smiles, flipping the knife one last time. It spins several times in the air before landing point first in the knob of bedpost. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get the memo about our appointment,” Sam says, closing the door behind him. “Did you want something? I thought you were supposed to be celebrating your win at the Oasis.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Sam? So unbecoming. I feel selfish for taking so much pleasure in it.”

“No, no jealousy,” he says. At least he’s pretty sure there isn’t. “Still kinda confused about why you’re here, actually.”

“Recon,” Luke replies easily. “I’m playing the game Sam, assessing the interest others have in me. You should be doing the same, if you want to win.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “You think I have some sort of interest in you?”

“I know you do Sam. I’m very good at reading people, but you seem easier than most. Maybe we have a special connection?” He laughs. “We’re quite a bit alike, I’ve noticed.”

“I…don’t think so, sorry,” Sam says hesitantly.

“I thought you might say that,” Luke shrugs, standing up. Sam watches as he pulls the knife out of the bedpost, flipping it shut and sticking it in his pocket. “You think of yourself as a good man, don’t you Sam?”

“I like to,” he agrees. “And let me guess, you’re out to corrupt me.”

“I don’t need to. I saw the look on your face after I kissed Jessica. You liked it – no Sam, don’t shake your head. It’s not bad to enjoy power, you know. You just have to enjoy it with the right person.” Luke steps closer, the sheer force of his presence pushing Sam back up against the door. “I’ll leave if you want me to. Just say the word. Tell me you’re not interested.”

Sam feels like he can’t look away from Luke’s face. He’s stuck, mesmerized and…seriously thinking about what Luke is saying. But what he’s saying is twisted, right? Which makes Sam a little twisted for even considering the fact that the control Luke has over him right now is…really, really hot.

“I’m…not not interested,” he hedges, looking to buy some time. It’s only round two, he isn’t going to commit himself to anything yet, no matter how harmless it seems.

Luke smirks. “Hmm,” he tsks, “Denial is not a good look for you, Sammy. I think you’ll come around in time.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Sam says, voice way more confident than he actually feels. “I’m definitely intrigued. Maybe you should try harder.”

Luke’s eyes light up and he chuckles. “Sound advice Sam. I think I’ll put it to use.”

***

The lights shines directly in his face, and even though it’s already ten in the morning and he should be awake by now, he squints, trying to get his bearings. Jesus, this is even worse than last time.

“Alright kid, let’s get this over with.”

The blinking light of the camera changes to a steady red shine and Dean blinks again, waiting for Bobby to ask the first question.

“How’d you get along with Lisa yesterday?”

“Great, I love Lisa. She’s a cool girl, real pretty. I think we could be friends.”

"You gotta choose another partner if you want to stay in the competition, you have anybody in mind?”

“Don’t have anybody in mind to partner up with,” Dean rubs his jaw, giving the camera a winning smile. “Hopefully somebody will take me in.”

Bobby nods, tugging his trucker hat down lower over his eyes. “Last question. You and Cas had a fight yesterday.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. Damn it, he knew this was coming. “That a question, old man?”

He scowls and waves his hand impatiently. “Just talk about it so I can get a damn clip from ya, Dean.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Dean grimaces. “Cas and me have got a weird…thing going on. Sometimes we like each other, sometimes we don’t, but he definitely annoys the hell outta me. Sometimes it’s in a ‘he’s such a shit’ way and sometimes it’s in an ‘I wanna strangle him’ way. So long as he keeps away from me I don’t think we’re going to have any problems.”

“So what if he doesn’t keep away from you?”

He shrugs. “If we keep bumping into each other, something’s gonna give.”

***

It’s strange sitting on a bench in the front row. He can’t see anything, and he can’t turn around to assess other’s facial reactions without looking obvious, so he’s stuck sitting here, watching Gabriel explain the rules of the Couple’s Choice Ceremony again for the camera.

Needless to say, Castiel is really, really bored. His artist thing, as Balthazar had called it, seemed to work, and he’d been drawing all afternoon until Rachel found him and dragged him to the pavilion. He wishes he could call the drawing productive, but it’s mostly for his own personal enjoyment, so basically he’s done nothing all day.

Plus Rachel didn’t let him go and change into his nicer clothes. He feels distinctly out of place in his grass stained jeans and ratty T-shirt.

Castiel had managed to catch a glimpse of Dean in a red tie before he’d moved behind him and therefore out of the available space Castiel had to look at. He wants to turn around very, very badly.

“Alright Bela and Luke,” Gabriel says, gesturing towards them. “Get on up here. Remember, anybody you ask to be your partner has to say yes. Luke, you gonna stay with Bela or try your luck somewhere else?”

“I think I’d like t try my luck somewhere else,” Luke scans the room slowly, like he’s actually considering who he wants to choose. That was a laugh. Castiel had almost immediately noticed the interest Luke held in Sam Winchester.

“Sam. Would you join me up here, please?”

Castiel turns his head slightly, enough to catch Sam starting in surprise, his hand twitching in what he could only assume was an aborted move to point to himself like someone out of a teen romantic comedy.

Granted, Castiel had only seen one teen romantic comedy and yes, it had been because he couldn’t sleep and the Disney Channel was the only channel playing anything remotely interesting at three in the morning, but he’s under the impression that they’re all very similar.

Sam stands up, sending Jess a regretful look before heading with Luke to the matched couples area.

To Bela’s credit, she doesn’t look at all surprised as she patiently waits for Gabriel to tell her to pick a partner, or else.

“Yes, I’d like Dean please.”

This time it was Castiel’s turn to feel a jolt of shock, a feeling that still lingers even after he and Balthazar announce their decision to stay together and he’s standing next to Dean and Bela. He’d missed this one, hadn’t thought Dean had any interest in Bela at all. Dean had taken Bela’s choice in stride, or else he knew it was coming. At either rate, his face betrayed nothing, no matter how hard Castiel studies him.

“Dude, stop staring at me,” Dean says out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re fucking freaky, you know that?”

Castiel frowns and turns away. For some reason it bothers him that Dean only seems put off by him during the times when Castiel isn’t trying to act abrasive. It’s another case of him acting incorrectly in response to Castiel’s actions, and it confuses him to no end.

Anna and Victor had tired of each other and were choosing different partners, although why Anna decided to ask a happily paired Benny Castiel has no idea. He politely turns her down, Anna goes off to the unmatched area, and Victor seems happy enough to choose Lisa as his new “adventurer in arms” as Gabriel calls her.

Benny and Jo are next and, unsurprisingly, decide to stick out another adventure with one another.

“Aw damn,” Dean says softly as the ceremony finishes up. Everyone else had chosen to keep their partners, leaving Jess and Anna as the unmatched pair.

“Sorry ladies,” Gabriel says regretfully. “It looks like I’m going to have to ask you to leave the island.”

Both girls wave as they leave the pavilion, and Castiel knows they’ll pack up their things and have one last confessional to say goodbye. What happened after that, he doesn’t know.

From Dean’s swearing, it’s obvious he thought that Jess made a good match for his brother. Castiel wonders what he thinks of Luke choosing Sam for the next adventure.

He wonders why he cares so much about what Dean thinks.

Whatever the reason, he feels for sure it can’t be a good thing.


	5. Chapter 4

This is just the kind of thing Sam would expect from a reality game show.

When he and Dean were small and left for days on end in hotel rooms with little to no food, Dean did his best to distract Sam, mostly with TV. There was never much on at eleven in the morning except reruns of game shows, and so game shows were what they watched. Things like _Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego_ and _American Gladiators_ and _Legends of the Hidden Temple_ became their favorite, and Sam would find himself choosing a team or contestant to root for within the first few minutes. Dean quickly caught on and made a game out of it, betting their teams against one another with ridiculous consequences for the loser.

Sam remembers several instances as a child where he was forced to stand on his head and recite the alphabet, or jump from one bed to another without touching the floor, all because he’d chosen a favorite that lost.

So here’s Sam’s childhood, replaying through his adult years. Just as soon as he’d started to like Jess and had chosen her as his favorite, she was taken out of the competition, and now Sam is stuck with the ridiculous consequences of sharing a cabin with Luke.

Eight year old him would’ve picked Jess to bet against Dean’s favorite within seconds. But Luke? He’s not so confident about that him. Luke is a renegade and a loose cannon, and Sam has absolutely no idea what to do with him.

“I apologize for your loss, Sam,” Luke says as they walk back towards the cabins.

Especially when he says stuff like _that_.

“My loss?” Sam repeats, not looking at Luke. Instead he keeps an eye on Bela and Dean up ahead, Dean meandering free and relaxed in contrast to Bela’s crisp walk. Unlike Luke, Sam knows exactly what to make of Bela, and he hopes Dean will be careful during this next round. Most especially, if Bela is what he’s beginning to suspect she is, he hopes Dean will be smart enough not to listen to anything she might have to say.

"Yes, your loss,” Luke nods. “Jess. It’s a shame, that young love has to end so soon.”

Sam’s face twists into a look Dean instantly would have dubbed ‘Ultimate Disgusted Bitch-Face 5000’ as he rounds on Luke. “What kind of game are you playing here?”

"I was under the impression we were participating in a rather D-list competition where the desperate, pretty and calculating get to make out with multiple others of their ilk.”

“I didn’t ask what the show was about,” he replies, stopping completely and jabbing a finger hard into Luke’s chest. “I asked what you were about. Why are you messing around with me?”

“Ouch,” Luke says calmly, although he doesn’t look very hurt as he easily shoves back Sam’s hand, causing him to wince in surprise at the amount of strength behind the movement. “I’m not messing around with you Sam, delightful as that invitation is. Have you ever considered that maybe this is all in your head? I am, after all, playing the game just like everybody else. What do you think makes _you_ special?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “That’s what I was asking you, Luke.”

“Hmm,” he hums, looking absurdly pleased (about what, Sam has no clue). “It seems we’re both looking for the same answer. Excellent.”

Sam stares at him a moment longer, incredulous look still fixed firmly on his face. “I’m having a hard time deciding if this is your actual personality or if you’re just acting like this because it makes me pay attention to you.”

Luke purses his lips, face growing cold as he begins walking again. “My, what an ego.”

“Well obviously you’ve been trying to get my attention,” he pushes, falling easily into step with Luke’s brisk pace. “Can you blame me for wanting to know why?”

“Do you want to know why?” Luke asks, voice pitched low and practically a purr, “it’s because you are hopeless Sam. You have no one, you future is heading exactly where you fear it is, to a soulless career, a loveless home life and a brother, who despite all the irony, is deliriously happy in the world he has created without you. You’re powerless to stop it. And it’s that kind of pathetic story that calls to me. Life just isn’t fair, is it?”

His speech finished, Luke heads into their cabin, leaving Sam standing outside alone in the dark.

***

Dean keeps silent all the way back to the cabin.

Bela, he suspects, is one of those monologue types. The clever ones that think everything in life is pointless unless everyone else knows exactly how clever they are. He’s sure she wants nothing more for him to start shooting questions at her, demanding to know why he’s been chosen as her partner all so she can smile that Cheshire grin at him and then reveal her brilliance all in her own time.

So he waits, because he knows it will piss her off. Bela may think he’s inadequate, but he was very good at what he did, and a lot of that was knowing what part to play, acting and reacting.

The first thing he does when he gets to the cabin is flop down on the bed, eyes half mast as he watches Bela drop her suitcase to the floor.

Bela looks at him, one eyebrow perfectly arched. “Well?”

“Well what?”

She frowns at him. “Not at all curious why you’re here, are you?”

Dean smirks slowly and can’t help but gloat, “Hell, I was going to give you way more credit on the patience front. You barely lasted five minutes.”

Bela’s frown deepens and she rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

"Probably shouldn’t have picked me then, I’m all about the nonsense.” Dean sits up, a thought suddenly dawning on him. “Hey, you don’t think this is going to… _be_ anything, do you? You’re nice looking and all Bela, but the manipulative Pink Panther thing you got going on just ain’t my type.”

“Please,” she says with a sigh, bending to rummage around in her suitcase. “While I wouldn’t object to undressing that gorgeous body of yours, stupid and incompetent are not my cup of tea.”

Dean opens his mouth to object – he may not be as smart as Sammy, but he’s not completely hopeless – but before he can, Bela finally finds what she was looking for, throwing it onto his lap.

“What is this?” he asks, picking the book up and studying it. It’s well made, the cover done up in blue cloth (almost the same color as Cas’ – no, no, shut up) but still messy somehow, bits of paper sticking out from the pages.

“It’s one Castiel Novak’s sketchbook,” Bela smiles proudly, sitting down on the bed beside him. Dean drops the book as if it’s burned his hands and stares at her.

“ _Castiel_? Cas? What the hell Bela?”

“It was rather easy actually. With all the people around here, you would think there’d be some level of security. I was mildly disappointed.”

Dean blinks. “You stole this.”

“Yes, well I am a thief,” she smiles. “You are too, Dean. The moral high ground really doesn’t suit people like us, you know.”

“I’m not a thief, I’m a carpenter,” he growls in disgust. “Even if I was a thief, why the fuck would I want this?”

Bela purses her lips. “I can see why you were such a disappointment to John,” she says, and Dean tries to pretend the comment doesn’t sting, because he needs to remember he doesn’t owe his dad anything. “Castiel Novak is one of the top artists out there, and he hasn’t released any new pieces in months. I thought if I came here I’d manage to get some good things from the contestants, but selling this to someone after such a long dry spell will keep me in caviar and silks for years.”

Dean squints at her, and he can’t believe he’s forgotten how horrible the people he used to hang around with are. How horrible he truly must be, deep down. Because even though he knows this is wrong, he can see the practicality behind it, the perks of selling away somebody’s livelihood. “Why are you showing this to me? And why the hell would you admit to it when we’re on camera?”

Bela waves him off. “Trust me, I know the executive producer. He won’t let this get on the show. Besides which, I didn’t know you were retired,” she says, clear disgust ringing through her tone at the word. It’s obvious she doesn’t really believe him. “And then when I realized you were, I figured I should continue my plan anyway. I thought we could partner up. There’s not much in there, you know, I’d really prefer that he drew more before we took it permanently.”

Dean looks at the sketchbook again, thinking about what it could do for him. It would easily get Sam through graduate school, get himself a bigger workshop. He could finally start buying stuff like fucking cocobolo wood and attract a richer clientele, instead of using the same old middle class birch and cedar he was stuck with now.

Hell, more than any of that, he thinks about what’s in the sketchbook. Not being a guy big on art, he’s never heard of Cas, never even seen anything he’s done. What did Cas draw? What the fuck was in there that’s so valuable?

It was an invasion of privacy Dean’s not comfortable with crossing. It would be a lot, he imagines, like someone finding his sketches for a one of a kind dining table before he had created and revealed the product, and this line of thinking is what gives him his answer.

“Put it back,” he tells Bela firmly.

She looks delighted. “Yes, well we have to, if we want him to draw more. You can persuade him.”

“No. We’re not doing that. _You’re_ not doing that.”

“What the hell makes you think you can stop me?”

Dean barks out a laugh, pulling the sketchbook away from her. “Please sweetheart, just because I don’t play the game anymore doesn’t mean I don’t remember how. I’ll come after you. I’ll find you, you know I will,” shoving the sketchbook onto the nightstand, he lies back against the headrest, grinning at her. “And then you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

Bela studies him for a second, eyes hard. “Hmm,” she says finally. “I guess you’ve made a friend here then.”

“Nah. Just decided screwing people over for my own enjoyment is a real dick move.”

She laughs. “I never thought I’d see the day a Winchester claimed to be reformed. Although life must not be going so well if you’re desperate enough to come on this show.”

Dean scowls at her. “Not desperate enough to sleep with you, fortunately,” he mutters. “Is that the only reason you wanted to partner up with me?”

Bela shrugs. “Partly. I feel a certain connection with you, of course. And Luke desperately wanted a piece of your brother; I couldn’t be left high and dry.”

“What? What the hell does Luke want with Sam?”

“His giant cock, I’d imagine,” Bela smiles beatifically, grabbing her toiletry bag and heading to the bathroom. “Try not to let your imagine run too wild while I’m gone, Dean.”

Dean swears and rolls over, burying his head in one of the pillows. Now on top of it all he has to worry about Sam too? Fan-fucking-tastic.

***

Castiel is going to wake Balthazar and he doesn’t care.

He likes to think he’s a reasonably rational person, someone who doesn’t fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. However, his personal sketchbook missing is not something he’d consider drop of the hat. Not with the kind of stuff he drew in there, the people he saw and the character studies and the sometimes, partially (fully, even) naked men…

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Balthazar grunts as the shirt Castiel threw lands on his head. “What the fuck are you doing?” he grumbles, his accent slurring the words together into an almost unrecognizable sound.

“Looking for my sketchbook,” Castiel informs him, continuing to dig through his suitcase. “You didn’t take it, did you?”

“No,” he yawns, rolling over and dumping the shirt on the floor. “I did not take your sketchbook out for a private wank.”

“I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Maybe one of the giant lizards that occupy this wonderful country carried it off.”

Castiel straightens up, his hair in as much disarray as his previously neatly packed suitcase. “You’re being incredibly unhelpful.”

"Ah, my strong suit,” he murmurs, throwing an arm over his eyes, presumably to block out the light. “Why don’t you go check out on the patio Cassie? I’ll be along in a moment.”

Obviously Balthazar is patronizing him, but there’s some merit behind his suggestion. Castiel spent a lot more time outside the cabin with his sketchbook than in. Leaving Balthazar to fall back asleep, he heads out into the early morning light.

Cas is surprised to see that someone is already up and eating breakfast, and as he gets closer he realizes it’s none other than Dean. A familiar blue bound book sits on the table next to his bowl of cereal.

He’s at the table before he knows it, hand outstretched and mouth turned into a deep frown. “Give that back.”

Dean looks up from his cereal, smiling easily. “Hey Cas.”

“I don’t know how you got this—“

“Hey woah,” Dean says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I found it out by the pool, thought I could return it to you before you freaked. Obviously I miscalculated on that end.”

Alright, Castiel thinks. So he probably jumped the gun on that one. Growing up as an only child has made him very possessive of his things, and nothing in that book was anywhere near ready to be unleashed onto the public’s eyes, most especially Dean Winchester’s.

He lowers himself slowly into the chair across from Dean, pulling the book towards him. “Did you open it?”

“Would I do that?” he asks, waving a hand almost immediately, “actually, don’t answer that one. Nine out of ten times I would. You caught me on an off day.”

The rush of relief Castiel feels at his answer is almost palpable. Tucking the offending sketchbook behind him and leaning back into the chair, he studies Dean, tilting his head slightly. “You’re not angry at me today.”

Dean looks up from his bowl once again, cheeks puffed out in a way Castiel finds more adorable than disgusting. “Who says?” he questions, voice garbled. “You checking out my mood ring or something, Cas?”

Cas’ eyes move involuntarily to Dean’s ring finger and the infuriating man smirks in response. “Expression.”

“I just know,” Castiel shrugs, choosing to ignore him. “You don’t seem angry with me.”

“Observant. Actually Cas, I’m not anything with you. You’re just a guy.”

“Just a guy.”

“An admittedly attractive guy,” Dean shoots him a cocky grin. “Like on a scale from Sam’s ugly mug to me, you’re definitely closer to me. But I’m not wastin’ time on you.”

“Not wasting time on me,” Castiel muses. “I assume that means you refuse to romance me for sex. If that’s the case, might I offer it up right here?”

Dean looks up for a third time with a wide, deer in the headlights look, and Castiel can’t keep a straight face long before his mouth twitches.

“You’re a heartless bastard, Cas,” Dean mutters. “I totally would’ve taken that offer.”

“I am tired of meaningless sex.”

Dean hesitates for a moment before his mouth twists into a sneer. “’Cept with Balthazar.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I am currently attempting to build a relationship with Balthazar. Does this bother you?”

“No,” he says sullenly. “Just that someone as easy as you probably thinks three days is enough time to wait before giving it up.”

Castiel stands up abruptly, grabbing the sketchbook before it falls to the ground. “Goodbye Dean,” he says crisply, not giving the man enough time to answer before he heads back to the cabin.

He supposes he deserved that, since he’d given Dean every impression sex was not a big deal to him, was something he gave freely and without much thought. Truth is, his job doesn’t allow for him to get to know people, and if he did want sex, his right hand or one night stands were the way to go. There were so many reasons he could give for not having a relationship – too much travel, too much fame, too much wasted potential, an inability to understand (or care) how his partner feels. Except, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips, he does care how Dean feels, despite the fact that sex between the two of them seems to be growing less likely with every conversation. Dean needs to understand who Castiel is.

He should show him some respect.

***

It’s only nine in the morning, and Dean has already managed to do these things in the following order:

  1. He’d managed to piss off Cas by belittling his want of a relationship and implying he’d always be an easy lay.
  2. He’d found Bela’s bra (it was hanging on the shower, come on, he was moving the damn thing!) and while contemplating how the underwear women were forced into could be at all comfortable, Bela’d found him, called him a pervert, and kicked him out of the cabin.
  3. Since Gabriel was running late, again, Sam had decided it was the perfect time to force Dean into a heart to heart.



“Dean,” Sam mutters, voice so low Dean has to strain to hear him, he’s so godammned tall. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Bela, I think –“

“She knows dad,” Dean interrupts. “Nice to know you remembered some of what you were taught, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression does an interesting dance between haughty and worried before finally settling on a combination of the two, making him look like a Republican right before an election. “You’re not going to listen to anything she says, are you?”

“Jesus Sam, I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t,” Sam says quietly. “But sometimes you do stupid things. Just be careful, ok?”

“All my stupid things have always paid off,” Dean mutters, but he’s already lost Sam’s attention. He’s furtively glancing over Dean’s shoulder and then away, a contemplative look on his face.

Dean watches him for a moment. “You performing some kind of Sasquatch mating ritual or something?”

“What?” Sam’s eyes fly back to meet his. “No! It’s just…Cas keeps staring at you.”

“Just ‘cause he’s mad at me,” Dean deflects.

Only thing is, Cas stares at him a lot. And yeah, ok, Dean knows this is something that Cas just does. Like normal people eat and sleep, Cas stares. He’s even become kind of used to it. Cas watches him with the same sort of intensity usually reserved for studying a newly discovered species. So Dean’s been doing his best to stare back. Let the bastard see how unnerving it is.

Only problem is, by staring Dean usually gets caught up in the cut of Cas’ jaw, the curve of his lips, and the flash of deep blue in his eyes.

This time he’s not turning around to look. Absolutely not.

“Alright boys and girls, who’s ready to get started?” Gabriel bounces into view, and Dean can only assume the cameras are already rolling, because Gabriel jumps right into hosting. Either that, or he’s developed a disturbing amount of interest in their lives.

This week they’re in a wide clearing, with trees interspersed throughout and grass tall enough to brush the back of Dean’s calves in an unnerving itchy way. There are also, he observes, randomly placed long sticks hidden throughout, though hell if he knows why.

“So Bela, Luke, enjoy the Oasis?” Gabriel’s saying. “Must not’ve been too good, since you switched partners.”

“Luke prefers a little sausage in his McMuffin, don’t you darling?” Bela says from next to Dean. Gabriel looks delighted at the comment as a few people laugh, Chuck letting out a surprised choking noise when Becky lets out a loud squeal next to him.

"It’s really all the same to me,” Luke replies right on cue. “I just prefer my eggs to not be so rotten.”

“Got ‘em!” Gabriel crows gleefully. Dean can’t help but laugh at Bela’s dark scowl as Jody’s cries of, “alright guys, cut it out!” break through the din. Even Cas, he notices, looks slightly amused, and Dean can only be upset that he hadn’t been the one to wrangle that expression out of Cas’ usually stoic features.

"Alright, alright,” Gabriel chuckles, bringing their attention back to him. “But seriously guys, you are here to find true love, and I hope each and every one of you is taking advantage of this great big cesspool of opportunity.”

Dean frowns. Wasn’t cesspool just another word for sewer? Wonderful, Gabriel had just declared all of them to be crap on national television.

He hopes Cas is enjoying the publicity.

“Any whooo,” Gabriel continues. “Today I need you to find me a farmer. Not just any farmer. I want you to find me a chicken farmer. No cows, horses, none of that, alright? You guys’ll wanna take your maps in the backpacks of course and, uh,” he taps his lip, frowning. “I’m forgetting something here…”

“Does it have anything to do with the multiple sticks scattered around the area?” Cas asks matter-of-factly. Dean grins to himself. Of course the asshole would’ve noticed them too.

“That’s it Casanova,” their host snaps, grinning. “All of you will wanna find yourselves a net kit and assemble it. Last one back’s a rotten egg!”

Gabriel looks at them expectantly, eyebrow raised. After a moment he sighs, shaking his head in a way that was completely reminiscent of John Winchester after having to explain a job for the second time to his sons, a ‘why do I even bother’ look. “That means go, kids.”

Dean starts before sprinting to the net he’d seen closest to them, stuck in a large patch of grass at the base of one of the trees. He glances behind him to see Bela taking her time to get to him as she studies the map. “Come on Bela.”

“This map has no finish line,” she informs him, shoving it back into the bag. “We just have to follow the path to this,” her lips curl up, “farm.”

“Well then the farmer’s probably gonna help us,” he says distractedly, noticing Cas and Balthazar a little ways away. They already found a net too, and now Cas is staring at the disassembled mess laid out before him with a perplexed expression Dean refuses to find endearing. “C’mon, help me put this thing together so we can get moving.” He drops to the ground, spreading out the two sticks and netting they’d been provided. Which is actually…painfully easy to put together. All he needs to do is tie the ends of the netting to one stick each.

“Why Dean, I hadn’t realized you wanted to experience the Oasis so badly with me.”

Dean gives a noncommittal grunt, tying the last knot and hauling the whole mess into his arms. “It’d be something.”

Cas is still struggling with the net as Balthazar watches. Dean fights the urge to go over and just do it for him. Hopeless, that’s what Cas is.

“Chivalry’s dead, Dean,” Bela sighs. “Come on, let’s stop staring at Castiel like he’s God’s personal gift to you and go talk to this bloody farmer. I absolutely cannot wait to see what he wants us to do for him.”

Dean frowns at her and follows as she starts off down the path. “I wasn’t staring. Like that. Just wondering how someone could find it so hard to put something this simple together.”

“Dean, even monkeys know how to make a stick into a tool if you give them enough time and stare at them long enough. You aren’t that special.”

What was this, the second dig on his damn intelligence so far? He’s grown to accept the fact that all he’ll probably ever be is Joe the Handyman, but it’s not really fucking necessary for Bela to keep pointing it out to him. Yeah, Cas is probably way smarter than him, hell, Dean’s surprised he’s even able to hold a conversation with the guy. Not that that’s any of Bela’s business.

“I looked him up, you know, when I heard he’d be on the show,” she continues, like she hadn’t just insulted him. “He was in ARTnews a few years ago. The way he looks at the world is rather fascinating.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, curious despite himself. “What does he paint, anyway?”

“Landscapes, mostly,” she says dismissively. “Really a waste of his talent, if you ask me. I much more enjoy his earlier work.”

He waits a beat for her to continue, and when she doesn’t, prompts impatiently, “Which was?”

“Portrait studies,” Bela replies. “He turns people into angels.”

Dean turns his head to look at her. “Is that supposed to stand for something?”

“No. It’s quite literal. He takes people out of his everyday life and turns them into angels, sometimes a specific angel. I know a few of them were personal acquaintances, although I got the impression he’d do it with people off the street. Can you imagine, a famous artist deciding you have the perfect face for an angel?”

Dean can imagine perfectly. Cas, young and new and still without his big break, sitting in coffee shops and on bus benches and in subways just watching. Creeping people out with that intense stare of his until he hit on the perfect combination of eyes and lips and mouth and was off.

Jesus, Cas must have some fucking memory for detail.

“That’s actually kinda badass,” Dean admits grudgingly.

“Isn’t it? Like I said, shame he doesn’t do them anymore. They didn’t take off too well until he’d stopped, they actually got quite a bit of criticism, and now he’s seemed to lose interest in selling them. But that’s what was best about his sketchbook, you know.”

“What?”

"It didn’t have any of that landscape drivel in it,” she says carefully, as if speaking to someone slow on the uptake. Maybe she was, because Dean still isn’t getting what she means.

“So that notebook…”

“Was full of angels, yes,” Bela rolls her eyes, obviously disgusted with the level of ineptitude she’s being forced to endure.

Dean’s knee jerk reaction is to go steal the book back. He thought he’d wanted to see Cas’ drawings badly before, but now that he knows what they were, he wants to see them even more. He’s definitely convinced Cas draws badass angels, none of that Precious Moments crap Sam liked so much as a kid (did he mention Sam was totally a girl?) and based on his tattoo, he bets there are a lot of hard lines involved, exactly the type of style Dean liked to create in his furniture.

Who would he be drawing? Probably Balthazar, he seemed to like hanging out with him a lot. Both Ruby and Meg had good facial features (though personally Dean felt that they were more suited for demons, what with the way he’d seen them acting so far). Maybe he’d already drawn Jess before she left, she’d make a good angel.

Yeah, he really wants to see those sketches. Purely from an academic standpoint.

“Are you going to pay attention, or should we just give up right now?” Bela asks him. “We are in first place, you know.”

“You see a farm around here somewhere, Bela?”

“Actually,” she replies, looking pointedly down the path. It leads to another opening, a small single level farmhouse situated at the edge of a field.

“Carry on then,” he mutters, unhappy that he’s doing everything in his power to show Bela that yes, actually, he is an idiot. Obliviousness like that would have gotten him whipped if he were on a job with John.

An older Costa Rican man, obviously the farmer, stands up from the chair situated on his porch as they draw closer, saying something in Spanish before gesturing at a sign hanging by his door. “Capture a partridge?” Bela reads, her tone one of disbelief.

“As in a pear tree?” Dean says doubtfully, looking around. Most of the field is taken up by a fenced in area, although as far as he can tell, everything inside the pen is a chicken. “I guess that’s what the net is for.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Think the point of the exercise is to do it together,” he says as he carefully untangles the net in his hands. “Teamwork. What a concept.”

"I’ll supervise,” Bela shrugs, and Dean knows that’s all the help he’s going to get from her. Leaving Bela to stand awkwardly by the porch with the farmer and his multiple bird cages, he heads into the pen, the nearest chickens running as soon as he gets anywhere near them.

They’re chickens. Every single one of them. What the fuck is a partridge?

Sam probably knows, because Sam is a walking encyclopedia of useless knowledge. Like Gandalf or the talking tree from Pocahontas. Except Sam is taking forever with Luke. Which is gross, and Dean resents himself for even thinking about his baby brother hanging around with a guy older than Dean. Guys his age are dicks, so logically guys older than him are even bigger dicks. And since when did Sam swing both ways? Did he even, or was this Luke guy just bugging him for his own sick amusement? Probably something Dean should ask before he punched the guy out, not that he really cared about the answer—

“They’re the little brown and grey ones.”

Dean jerks in surprise, his head shooting up to instantly connect with a pair of deep blue eyes. He must’ve been standing here contemplating life long enough for Cas and Balthazar to catch up and shit, that was gonna piss Bela off. Balthazar probably thinks he’s some kind of freak, staring at a bunch of chickens. Cool, him and Cas can laugh and bond over how much of an idiot Dean is later.

“You looked deep in thought,” Cas adds, actually looking hesitant, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak to Dean, now that Dean’s been staring at him like he doesn’t know what to do with him. “I thought maybe you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be catching.”

“Oh,” he says with all the eloquence he can muster. Looking around, he notices that among the browns and blacks there are a few dots of grey belonging to a smaller, though similar looking bird.

Dean’s not totally sure why Cas has decided he’s no longer pissed at him, but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So,” eying the partridge closest to him, Dean asks as casually as he can, “Where’s Balthazar?”

Cas gestures back towards the farmhouse. “He was not interested in helping, much like Bela.”

Dean snorts and makes a grab for the partridge with the net, almost falling on his ass when it makes a break between his legs. Smooth Winchester. “So far all I’ve learned about the British is that they’re snooty and don’t like to work.”

He glances at Cas, and to his delight the man actually looks amused. Success. “Balthazar is certainly unique in his own right. We’ll have to count him as an outlier.”

Success ruined. All Dean’d done is give Cas the chance to compliment his dickish partner.

“You make the most interesting faces,” Cas says, a non-sequitur Dean’s grateful for. Anything is better than having to listen to Cas do his straight faced and slightly sardonic version of what Dean can only assume is equivalent to a normal human’s gushing – and over Balthazar, no less.

“You should see Sam, he’s got about eight hundred of them,” Dean gives him a lopsided smile. “’Sides, mostly it’s the expression I make when I’m trying to keep my brain from overheating.”

Cas frowns at him, genuinely curious. “Why would your brain overheat?”

“Most things do that when they try to perform more work than they’re capable of, Cas.”

Wow, Cas has nice lips. Him pursing them like he is isn’t helping Dean’s imagination any, either. If he were to turn his head and fall forward a few steps, they’d totally be pressed against Dean’s right now.

“I’ve seen you build a raft,” Cas says evenly. “I have heard you in conversation. Crass though you may be, I highly doubt you are dumb in any sense of the word, and will continue to believe so until you prove otherwise.”

“Aw, and here I thought you were enjoying my sweet talk,” Dean coos, deflecting on instinct. Not that he doesn’t appreciate Cas trying to be all nice and everything, but c’mon. He’d known Dean for about a week. It’d taken Cassie a couple of years to figure out what a worthless sack of shit he was. If Cas stuck around long enough, he’d get there too.

“I might’ve been more receptive if I knew that’s what it was,” he replies, lips tilting at the corner in a barely there smirk. “Next time I’ll remember you flirt like an awkward teenager.”

“Hey, I don’t need to flirt,” Dean protests, giving him his best smolder.

“Why do I have the sudden urge to drop my pants?”

“Ha ha. Hey, uh, you got a partridge.”

During the course of the conversation, Cas had lowered his net inch by inch, until finally it was drooping so much it touched the ground, like a jump rope. He must have done something recently to appease the bird gods, because a small grey pheasant is sitting in the middle of the net, just waiting for Cas to wrap it up and take it to the farmer.

“Did he bribe you or something?” Dean asks it. It cocks its head in a manner eerily similar to Cas. In fact he could swear the damn thing is mentally flicking him off.

Cas clears his throat, and yeah, now he feels dumb for talking to the chicken. “I guess I should bring it to the farmer,” he says solemnly, folding it up in the net before carefully picking it up. “Do you think he’s going to eat it?”

Dean stops swinging his net around in the hopes that another partridge would be stupid enough to walk into it and looks at Cas. In his workout hoodie, hair all mussed and a netted pheasant in his hands, he should look ridiculous. Somehow he doesn’t. God knows how he made the homeless thing work, but he totally did. “Nah. He’ll be back running around with all his friends by the end of the day.”

Cas looks down at the bird and nods. “You realize you’re in second place now,” is all he says before turning and heading back to Balthazar.

No amount of swearing can catch Dean a damn bird, and it takes him almost five more minutes until he’s wrapped one up so tightly in the net he wouldn’t be surprised if he was strangling it. Which probably wouldn’t go over too well on TV, to be honest.            

“You are the epitome of grace,” Bela tells him when he trots back over to her and the farmer, partridge in tow. The farmer takes the small bird gratefully, net and all, as Bela continues to give him her best imperious expression, like not only was she British, she was actually royalty or some shit.

That would seriously suck for Britain if it were true.

“Thanks for all the help,” is all he says in response. The farmer hands Bela another map, hopefully to the finish line. It was too bad they had to get moving if they wanted any chance at first again. The other couples are just beginning to show up, and Dean would pay big money to see Sam, giraffe legs and all, try to capture a bird that was probably roughly the size of one of his giant hands.

“You managed, didn’t you?” Bela asks crisply, actually walking pretty quickly for someone who doesn’t seem to care about things, much less how she places in the competition. “Could have managed better if you didn’t spend half your time having a stare-off with Castiel.”

“We weren’t having a stare-off.” They totally were. Dean likes staring at Cas, so sue him.

“And now you expect me to pick up the slack.”

Dean steps over a tree root, emitting a sharp laugh as he does so. “You haven’t done anything Bela.”

“Obviously I have done something, I’ve chosen a partner who is easily coerced into doing everything for me. Now come on, the cliff is just up ahead.”

Cliff? Cliff is not a word Dean likes. Cliffs are for rock climbers and goats and the occasional bad drivers in movies who fly their car right off the edge during a chase scene. Dean would never drive his baby over a cliff. Cliffs are not for real life experiences, especially not Dean’s.

“When you say cliff—" he starts, but the scenery answers his unasked question for him. There’s no thinning of trees this time, leading to a wide open clearing. Instead the world just kind of…stops. The dirt and grass beneath his feet turns to rock and then nothing. That’s it, they’ve reached the end of the world. Thanks for the view world, but it’s time to turn around and head back now.

“We’ve got to jump,” Bela says as she reads the map, and Dean considers her voice way too matter of fact for the situation, like she thinks that’s _reasonable_.

"Jump?” he asks, and Jesus, when did he start sounding like he smokes a pack a day? “Are you crazy? I’m not jumping!”

"Your voice gets deliciously sexy when you’re scared shitless,” she replies absently, stepping closer to the edge of the drop and peering over it. “Is it your proof-of-masculinity gene kicking in, I wonder?”

Dean simply does not have the answer to that, considering that he’s being told to jump off a fucking cliff.

“Look, it’s into the river. And obviously Cas and Balthazar have done it. There aren’t any bodies down there, come look.”

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “No way in hell am I jumping off that thing, Bela.”

Bela rolls her eyes in exasperation, like Dean’s the insane person here. “Stop being ridiculous. It’s barely a little hop.”

Dean inches closer. The least he can do is look over the edge right? He’s a Winchester for crying out loud, Winchesters get shit done. It isn’t like a plane. In a plane, there’s no control. Here he has all of the control.

It’s fucking far. It has to be something like eighty feet to the damn water. No fucking way.          

“Well Bela,” he says, turning to look at her. “It’s been a good run, but…”

"Oh blast it Dean,” she says sharply, and it’s totally unfair that she catches him off guard, because if he’d known she was going to push him he’d have twisted her arm right off.

The fall into the water is brief and terrifying. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t scream, which is his only consolation out of the whole mess. In fact, it’s hard to remember anything from the fall but complete and utter loss of control, and he’s never gonna forgive Bela for taking that from him.

He slams into the water at what feels like mach speed, and being able to see the sun glinting off the surface above him is the only thing that keeps him from becoming disoriented and freaking out. It still feels like forever until his head breaks the surface, and he’s gasping, convinced he wouldn’t have been able to hold his breath any longer.

Dean swims to shore, rubbing a hand through his hair when he’s on solid ground again. Bela jumped almost right after him, and she had the chance to do it correctly, legs together and body stick straight.

“Oh come on,” she laughs when she sees his face, wringing out her hair. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he says evenly. Anybody else who knew Dean would know to be scared. An angry Dean Winchester was easy to handle. One seeking revenge was another story. Unfortunately, Bela doesn’t know Dean, and she only looks delighted.

“You weren’t going to jump.” They set off down the path again. Dean hopes the jump was the last part of the challenge, because no way is he in the mood for anything else.

“I would have, if you’d given me the chance,” Dean says sharply. “But you didn’t.”

“I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Yeah, you remember you said that when you find all the beetles in your dinner tonight,” he mutters darkly.

The path they’re on makes a sharp turn to the right, following the river along a copse of trees that do an effective job of dimming the sun until they burst back into the light. Dean squints in an effort to get used to the sudden brightness, thinking not for the first time about how dumb the no sunglasses rule is as he spots Gabriel.

“Hey kiddos!” he calls, waving. Gabriel is bouncing on the balls of his feet again, and Dean wonders if the guy’s batteries ever run down. Or if he even sleeps at night, since Dean only ever sees him during their little competitions and still had no proof he’s actually human.

“So, how was Farmer Fred?” Gabriel asks as they get closer. “You two have a nice swim together?”

Dean grits his teeth in a parody of a smile while Bela plays the believably charming but secretly psycho polite person at his side. His clothes are beginning to stick to him in places he doesn’t want them to stick, and Gabriel is gonna have to let them go before he starts adjusting his damn dick on television.

This is the problem with the stupid UnderArmour and Nike shit Sam loves so much. It packaged you up all nice for your workout but the second you make the wrong movement you gotta start doing inappropriate things in public to pack it back in.

Gabriel, seemingly satisfied with the unintentional amount of torture he’d inflicted on Dean for the day, finally lets them go. Dean breathes a sigh of relief as they’re allowed to walk out of range of the camera and back towards the cabins, sticking a hand down the waistband of his pants.

"Charming.”

“Listen lady, when you’ve got something long and awkward shoved down the front of your skin tight pants, you call me and bitch, okay? Right now I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Dean?”

Dean pauses mid-adjustment, hand totally still down his pants. Cas is hanging out on the edge of the path – _way to fondle yourself in front of the guy Dean –_ an amused look on his face as he stares at Dean’s groin, meets his eyes, and then goes back to the fist currently stuffed right up against his testicles.

“I’ll take that as my cue, although my heart aches for any commentary I miss that will surely accompany this moment,” Bela says, and how she manages to swing her hips while stumbling away through the jungle Dean will never know.

“Should I give you a moment?” Cas asks, arching an eyebrow. He sounds sarcastic, but if he thinks Dean is missing the slight gleam of want in his eye, he’s kidding himself.

However, short of pulling his dick out right here in the forest in front of God, Jesus and potentially the rest of America if a camera managed to pick this up, there’s not much he can do about it.

Still, Cas is gonna drive him nuts. Leaning against a tree all casual like he’s enjoying the nature or something and just happened to run into Dean. His hair is ruffled, a leaf stuck in it, and Dean desperately wants to press him against his stupid cool guy tree, pluck the leaf out of his hair and kiss him absolutely senseless.

He notices the sleeve of Cas’ shirt straining against his lean biceps, and his brain makes the logical jump from kissing to naked forest groping.

Crap. He’s getting hard against his fucking hand.

What the hell. Cas has already seen him messing with his dick, might as well play it up for all it’s worth. Cocky always worked for Dean.

“You could stick around and help instead,” he suggests, winking as he pulls his hand out. “Be a nicer experience for everyone involved.”

“As interesting as that suggestion is, I’m afraid I have to get going. They’re taking us over to the Oasis in a car.”

“Oh,” Dean says, sour taste in his mouth. Bitterness, that was it. Probably because it should be him and Bela going to the Oasis, even though it’s weird to be feeling upset over that, because he kind of hates Bela. Weird, but that’s gotta be it. “Have fun then. Dunno if I’d exactly call spending a night with that British douchebag a prize, but…”

Cas scowls at him. “Despite our tendency to argue, I do like you Dean. That doesn’t happen often with people. Please stop being so infuriating and allow me to be your friend.”

“Dude, would you wanna be my friend if I wasn’t so infuriating?” he asks, sending him a shit eating grin. “Besides, you sound so formal man. You don’t need a fucking invitation. Just be my friend.”

“Fine,” he shoots back roughly.

“Good!”

They stand glaring at each other across the path, locked in the ultimate staring contest. Since Dean knows he has absolutely no chance of winning, he lets his eyes stray, running them over Cas’ face before stopping and staring heatedly at Cas’ lips. Man, he really wants to kiss him.

Cas blinks.

“HA!”

“You cheated,” Cas protests, voice deeper than it normally is. Dean can only grin at the victory, in not just the staring contest but also in managing to get that pissy look back on Cas’ face. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite looks. The more he sees of it, the more he thinks it resembles a grumpy kitten.

“Does this mean we’re friends now?” Cas asks, doing a great job of sounding serious about it.

Dean lets out an involuntary laugh. Cas looks surprised at the noise, then inordinately pleased with himself. “Yeah yeah, we’re friends. Go catch your fancy car or whatever.”

The subsequent bitch face eerily similar to Sam’s that Dean receives in response before Cas leaves assures him that this friendship is going to be well worth it.

“Dude, stare much?” a cheerful voice behind him quips, and Dean turns to find a flushed looking Charlie.

I mean not that I blame you,” she said quickly when she catches his expression. “He’s super dreamy.”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Oh sorry, am I encroaching on your bisexual territory?” Charlie asks, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a Vulcan either, and I can still appreciate that Captain Kirk is hella fine.”

Dean’s face splits into a wide grin and he instantly decides he’s going to keep Charlie. Forever. “I’m Dean,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Charlie,” she smiles, bouncing on her toes a little as she slaps his palm in a high five. “Can I just say how awesome it is that you’re basically Han Solo but like, three up on the Kinsey Scale?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I dunno, you don’t think Han had a bit of a thing for Chewy?”

Charlie gapes at him. “Ewww, dude. You’re freaky as fuck!” she beams at him. “Remember this moment, because it is the moment that we became best friends.”

“Noted,” Dean laughs and starts walking down the path again. It’s getting kinda creepy just standing out here among the trees.

"Thank god, I was beginning to feel like we were waiting for a little girl in a red hood to come along,” Charlie says.

He grins at her. “Now don’t be offended, you know I have to ask – Star Wars: new generation or old?”

The look he’s given is almost pained. “ _Old_. Please, Dean.”

"Just checking to make sure you meet the best friend criteria.”

“Is there a form I need to fill out?”

“Yup. References are required.”

“I guess I better start cozying up to Cas then,” she sighs.

Charlie isn’t Sam, so there’s a safe bet she isn’t gonna make some girly joke about how Dean has a crush or something. Considering it a safe topic, he asks, “Why?”

“Isn’t he your person on the show, or whatever?” Charlie grins. “So having him as a reference would probably work in my favor.”

Maybe Charlie has talked to Sam. Or maybe Sam’s Sam-ness was contagious. Crap. “We’re just buds, Charlie. I don’t want a boyfriend. Even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Cas.”

Charlie takes a long time to answer, and when Dean glances over at her she has kind of a dumbfounded look on her face. Maybe he’s broken her brain. How could he check though? He doesn’t know her well enough to start asking her questions. Hell, he couldn’t even ask her to add two and two, ‘cause for all he knows she sucks at math.

A huff from her brings him back from his thoughts, and he focuses on her as she frowns at him, like she’s severely disappointed or something. “What’s wrong with Cas?”

“Besides the fact that he’s a colossal ass and kinda full of himself?” Dean shrugs. “Nothing, really.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Kid, that is the problem.”          

Charlie groans. “Oh, god.”

“What?”

“You are such a cliché. Not only are you Han Solo, you’ve got self-esteem issues. Back story. You’re a tragic hero. Don’t get me wrong, it makes the movie more interesting, but god, at what cost?”

Dean opens his mouth – he has no idea what to say, but he’s confident something semi-intelligent is gonna come out – but Charlie beats him to it. “I’ll tell you. _Angst._ ”

Charlie, interestingly enough, manages to look both exasperated and elated by this.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean says carefully. “So I’m gonna take it as a compliment and we can move on.”

They reach the outermost cabins, Charlie stopping at the stoop of one. The names ‘Gilda’ and ‘Charlie’ are carved into wooden planks hung beside the door (which kind of hurt Dean’s heart to look at, to be honest, they’re so badly done), and they’d somehow gotten a hold of Christmas tree lights to string along the ceiling of their porch. “You ever wonder what these cabins are actually for?” Dean asks. “I mean, they got plumbing and electricity and stuff.”

“We think they’re part of some resort that plays up to tourists by offering the ‘jungle experience’,” Charlie says, honest to god making air quotes. Dean thought they only did that on TV. “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

Dean grins. “Is it—“

“Not boobs,” Charlie grabs his wrist and pulls him up the porch and inside the small room. “Alright, some boobs. Gilda, we’ve got a visitor. Shirts required.”

Gilda is laying stomach down on the bed, flipping through a magazine and clad only in her underwear and bra. Which means this is the second time today that Dean got to get up and personal with uncomfortable looking lady garments. Not that Gilda looks bothered by it. Nor did she look bothered that a complete stranger was looking at her practically naked.

“Hey! Dean, right?” she asks, pulling on an overlong T-shirt that barely covers her ass. “You’re the one who’s totally in –“

Charlie clears her throat loudly. Dean might have questioned it more if he hadn’t just gotten a surprise viewing of an incredibly shapely body.

“It’s really hot here, isn’t it?” is said smoothly instead.

“A bit,” he says dumbly. Charlie rolls her eyes and pushes him into sitting position on the edge of the bed, retreating to the corner to rummage through her luggage.

“I’m Gilda,” the girl smiles prettily, holding up the magazine she’s reading. The cover shows a scary looking women wearing an even scarier looking outfit. How the hell could women wear heels that bent their toes at ninety degree angles?

The only explanation, Dean thinks, is that they are Not of This Earth.

"I’m a model,” Gilda says as Dean continues to stare at the magazine. “How did you do in the challenge? We came in almost last.”

“But not last, and that’s all that matters,” Charlie’s muffled voice comes from the corner, her head practically stuck all the way into her backpack.

“We weren’t very good at catching the chicken,” Gilda murmurs. “We both grew up in the city.”

“Teenage runaways are way too conspicuous in the countryside,” Charlie agrees, plopping down on the bed between Dean and Gilda, laptop in hand.

Dean studies Charlie carefully as she boots the laptop up, her brow furrowed. It’s a tactic he knows well, saying something serious in an offhand way so nobody quite knows what to do with it. Usually if people are uncomfortable, they won’t say anything at all. Dean had used it loads of times on Cassie, and eventually she’d learned to stop asking Dean about his childhood, or John, or even about the early years of his adulthood.

“So, how did you get a laptop in here?” he asks, instead of saying one of the millions of other things he could have said.

“Charlie’s special,” Gilda says proudly. “She’s incredible with computers.”

“Ah. So you know PowerPoint?”

Charlie giggles. “Man, you are such a dork. Do I know PowerPoint.”

He frowns. It was a totally legitimate question. “So, yes?”

“This morning Charlie hacked into a Super Pac endorsing a potential Congressman who wants to enact more anti-equality laws and donated some of their money to an animal shelter,” Gilda tells him.

"I do love puppies,” Charlie nods.

“That sounds illegal.”

“If I got caught, yeah.”

He frowns. “So why’re you trusting me?”

She shrugs, touches the tip of her nose. “I got a feeling about you.”

“Anyway, she could be in the CIA if she wanted,” Gilda nods, looking certain.

“Hell,” Dean says, watching her fingers fly across the keyboard. “I can carve a couple of vines into a slab of wood.”

“That’s awesome!” Charlie says, looking genuinely interested. “What else?”

“Uh. Nothing else. That’s pretty much it.”

She rolls her eyes. “As much as I doubt that, that’s not really what I’m asking. Abilities are pretty important, but seriously, anyone can do this stuff with enough practice. What traits make up your Sim?”

They were still speaking the same language right? “What’s a Sim?”

“Oh my god,” Charlie turns to Gilda, a clear sign for help in the face of Dean’s technological ineptitude.

“Okay,” Gilda says, holding up her hand, five fingers extended. “Charlie is caring, clever, trustworthy, nice and quirky.” Each finger goes down as she says a word, until she’s making a fist with her hand.

“Aw,” Charlie grins, leaning over to kiss Gilda. “Thank you.”

Gilda smiles into the kiss, turning to Dean when Charlie lets her go. “So? What are you?”

“Um,” Dean’s drawing a major blank here. He can probably get away with nice, he really only hit things when he was drunk and pissed off. Except Sam always likes to say he has a short fuse and an unholy taste for vengeance, so guess that was out. His background means he’s not very trustworthy. Maybe he’s funny? Except again, he makes Sammy groan more than he does laugh. “I’m pretty handy.”

“You said as much already.”

“Well I don’t know,” he says, getting frustrated. “There’s not much to me alright? I’m a carpenter, I’m proud of my brother, and I’m pretty damn good looking. That’s all I really got for you two. What were you gonna to show me Charlie?”

Charlie and Gilda exchange a look, but thankfully drop the topic. Charlie turns the laptop towards Dean, showing him a grainy, black and white image of an empty bedroom.

“What am I looking at here?”

Charlie just grins and hits a button. The image changes, still the same quality, but now there are three people sitting on the bed. “Hey,” Dean frowns, “is that…?”

“Charlie hacked the cameras!” Gilda cries happily, throwing her hands up. The Gilda on camera is about three seconds behind.

Dean stares at Charlie. “How did you even do that?”

“Oh easy,” she waves the question off. “These are the overnight cameras, they use ‘em when we’re all snuggled up in bed, or whatever. I got into the day time ones too—" she points to a camera above the bed, with a better angle to get the whole room, “but those obviously aren’t as much fun.”

“You pervs,” Dean says, clearly impressed. “They gotta know you’re doing this. Can’t they hear us talking about it right now?”

“I turned our audio off,” Charlie laughs. “They’re probably scrambling to fix it right now. Gilda and I are careful not to talk about it, so it always just looks like we’re on the laptop, which I guess they’ve decided to let me get away with. And we don’t look at it when the camera guys follow us in here to film, obviously.”

“We’re probably gonna get caught,” Gilda giggles, looking giddy at the prospect. “But it’s worth it. We know everything about everybody. It’s like a sneak preview of the show!”

Dean stares at their little black and white images on screen. The kind of effort that went into something like this is frankly beyond his comprehension, but he has to give props to Charlie. It’s one thing to demand equality from a game show that could give a fuck about anything but the ratings that demand would create, but it was quite another to then go over the same show’s head and break the rules without caring.

“Hey,” he says, a sudden idea striking him. “Can you get the Oasis’ cameras on this thing?”

“Pfft,” Charlie scoffs. “Easy. What do you wanna see?”

***

“Now this is what I’m talking about!” Balthazar says happily.

The front door of the building called the Oasis opens up into a wide entry way from which one can see the sitting room and straight through to a balcony in the back. Everything is done in mostly white, with subtle undertones of Caribbean blue. There are palm fronds everywhere (which Castiel considers to be trying too hard) and a warm gentle breeze wafts throughout the house due to the wide open doors and windows.

From what Cas can see, the place mostly consists of overstuffed chairs, delicate wooden tables and random paintings of various landscapes.

It’s much too opulent for his taste.

Castiel is no stranger to money. He makes an okay living for himself when he’s painting, enough to live comfortably. He could probably live much more than comfortably if he wanted to, as Inias has pointed out to him countless times. But Castiel likes his simple studio flat, finds it silly that some people spend so much money on a space only they ever see. It took him a good portion of his adulthood to begin actually spending the money he earned from painting on anything at all, he sees no reason to overdo it.

Even if he ever had the opportunity, he doesn’t want to be that person.

“Cassie, come look at this pool!” Balthazar crows.

Castiel drops his bag next to Balthazar’s, walking to the back of the house and out onto the balcony. The house was built into the side of a hill overlooking the ocean, and the view is so beautiful it _almost_ makes Castiel want to paint it. Almost. Lately he’s had a strong urge to paint only in greens and golds, and there’s none of that in the ocean.

The balcony has a set of stone steps leading down the hillside, and about halfway down built into a ledge is the pool Balthazar was referring to. Castiel doesn’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a pool.

“Very nice,” he says dutifully instead.    

A camera man has followed them inside, obviously there to get their reaction to the place. Castiel has to wonder if Balthazar would be this excited if the camera wasn’t there.

“Have you seen the bed?” he asks, winking lewdly.

“I’m sure you’re going to show me,” Castiel sighs, and sure enough, Balthazar leads him into the bedroom, most of it taken up by a huge four poster bed hung with gauzy white sheets.

“Just imagine Cassie,” Balthazar murmurs, slipping his hand over Cas’ arm before taking off into parts of the house unknown.

Cas stares at the bed a few moments longer, the cameraman standing awkwardly behind him. “Is this very interesting to film?” he asks wryly, turning around. “I can make faces if you like.”

The cameraman, blond and young and looking like he has no business holding a camera almost half his weight, smiles. “Could you? That would really help.”

“No,” he says bluntly. “I think you’ve gotten enough. How old are you anyway?”

The kid blushes, and Castiel wonders if he’s accidentally committed one of those social faux pas everyone is always complaining to him about.

“I’m twenty three,” he says defensively, lowering the camera. “You’re Castiel Novak.”

"Thank you for letting me know.”

“No, I mean –" it’s cruel of him, but Castiel kind of wants to see how deeply red this kid can go. “I’m Alfie.”

“Hello Alfie,” Castiel says politely, because he can at least do that much. “I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but if you’re done filming I’d prefer that you left, or at least stopped standing over my shoulder.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, I can do that.” Alfie lifts his camera again, heading for the door. With nothing better to do, Cas follows him.

"Is the filming here the same as in the cabins?”

“Yes,” Alfie nods emphatically. “There are various cameras on the walls. Obviously they’re not going to use all the footage, just like with the cabins, but the pick the best stuff to send the message of the show across.” 

“That message being either there’s a relationship or a lack of one,” Castiel states, looking around and spotting one of the cameras in the corner of the hallway.

“I guess,” he shrugs sheepishly. “I’m new here, I’m not totally sure how it works.”

“Thank you Alfie, you’ve been very helpful,” Castiel says, leading him to the door. “I think I can figure out the rest.”

“Oh ok,” he says as Castiel bodily pushes him not so subtly out the door. “I really love your paintings!”

It almost makes Castiel feel bad about closing the door in his face. Almost.

Speaking of which, he should probably paint something while he and Balthazar are staying here. It’d be the best way to showcase himself while he’s here without much distraction, and although he still isn’t feeling much of an urge to copy the landscape outside, it’s better than most of the things he usually saw and painted at home. Certainly better than the dark and dirty alleyway phase he’d gotten into towards the end of last year, although Inias claimed everyone at the gallery loved them.

Rich people, Castiel thinks, are weird. And they did not understand art. He’s not sure he could claim such a thing either, but at least he knew enough to know what he painted to sell was bullshit.

Exploring the large house eventually brings him to the kitchen, which is done up in the same all-white style as the rest of the house, only the gleam of the steel appliances bringing any variety into the decor. Strangely enough, a woman stands in front of the open refrigerator, staring blankly into it and sipping from a glass of lemonade.

Castiel should probably be concerned, but really he’s just relieved he’s found something to do.

“Hello?”

The woman jumps slightly, fumbling with her glass before setting it firmly on the large island in the middle of the room. She kicks the door shut behind her and smiles at Castiel. “Hey hon, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d wandered in here. I’m Ellen, I’ll be the cook tonight.”

Castiel studies her features with a practiced eye, something niggling at the corners of his brain. “You look familiar.”

Ellen gives him a smile, and a feeling of acute recognition washes over Castiel. “You probably know my daughter.”

“Jo,” he nods. It was in the smile, the arch of the eyebrows and the downward turn of her lips. Distressing that he’d needed a bit of a prod to see it. He used to be much better at this.

“Nice to meet you too sweetie.” Ellen crosses her arms and leans against the counter, regarding him curiously. “You friends with my Jo?”

“Not particularly, no,” Castiel answers truthfully. “I have not had a chance to talk to her. However, as a potential partner for her, I understand if you’d like to issue me a threat.”

Ellen throws back her head and laughs, a deep sound straight for her belly. “You’re a one of them smartasses, aren’t you?” she asks, looking amused. Castile decides he likes her. “You’re a good kid. Not like that couple that was here the other night.”

“Bela and Luke?”

“That the British lady and the cool-as-a-cucumber blond?” At his nod of confirmation, Ellen shrugs. “Yeah. Those two argued a lot. Felt like I was at my bar back home.”

“You…work at a bar?” Castiel says hesitantly, looking around. Not that he’s complaining, but he’d expected the Oasis’ kitchen to be run by some ridiculously accented five star chef who cooked at restaurants Castiel couldn’t even pretend to pronounce the name of.

“Yup,” she winks at him. “Turns out being a close friend o’ Bobby Singer’s got me at least something for putting up with his sorry ass. Now how about you hon? You and your boy planning on arguing tonight, or do you two actually like each other?”

“We won’t argue,” he assures her. “I believe he is too busy being impressed by this place to do much of anything at the moment.”

“You not impressed?”

Castiel sits down in a stool situated next to the island, leaning forward on the granite counter top. “Not much impresses me,” he replies, raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s not that this place isn’t nice, I just don’t appreciate it in the same way Balthazar does.”

Ellen leans forward on the counter as well, studying his face. “And what way is that?”

He thinks carefully about his words before answering. He doesn’t want to accidentally insult Balthazar’s character, although the process has already started in his head. “I believe Balthazar is overwhelmed by the wealth this place suggests for the sole sake of….of what it can provide him, I think.” Castiel frowns, struggling to say the next words the way he wants. This is why he painted instead of writing or speaking, it was a much more effective form of communication. “Instead of just being happy, Balthazar is always searching for ways in which he can be happier.”

“Interesting,” Ellen comments. “You’re certainly a deep one, aren’t you.”

“I like to make it seem that way, yes,” Castiel offers a small smile.

“Castiel! Where have you gone?” Balthazar calls from the hallway. Castiel doesn’t have to answer, since not two seconds later Balthazar has found his way into the kitchen and flung himself into the stool next to Castiel.

“This is Ellen. She’s Jo’s mother,” Castiel tells him, adding, “And she’s making dinner tonight.”

“Ah! Yes, hello darling,” Balthazar grins. “I’d like your finest bottle of champagne please. Do you think you could make us steak? I haven’t had a good steak since I left the city.”

“Sorry son, but I’m a cook, not a waitress,” Ellen says flatly. “There’s champagne in the cooler, you’re welcome to go check it out. And I’m ‘fraid I’m making lobster.”

“Disappointing, I’d much rather have had a steak,” Balthazar sighs. “Are you sure we can’t choose what we eat?”

“Usually I’d humor ya, but they’re boiling already.”

“Fine, fine,” Balthazar leans back in the stool, looking around the kitchen. “Do you think you could make a salad then?”

“I was planning on it,” Ellen nods, crossing her arms and looking at him.

“And you’ve got fresh butter?”

“I do.”

“Lemon?”

She’s beginning to look slightly annoyed. “You wanna come check the groceries?”

Castiel decides they’d bothered her enough and pulls Balthazar off the stool. “Come on, let’s leave her alone. I’m sure everything will be delicious, Ellen.”

Ellen lets them go with a wave of her hand, turning back to the fridge and grumbling under her breath.

“It sounded like you were giving her a background check,” Castiel tells Balthazar as he leads him into the living room. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Well of course,” he agrees, heading for the couch and dropping down on it. Balthazar, Castiel notices, sprawls a lot, as if to claim every space as his own. “And I, as a concerned and helpful person, am just making sure she has all the tools with which to do it correctly.”

“I’m sure the show has made certain to provide her with what she needs, Balthazar.” Castiel leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, watching as Balthazar closes his eyes and makes no response. Balthazar is interesting, certainly, and he often infuriates Castiel, but not in a way he likes. Castiel enjoys arguing and frustration (frustration is a great motivator), puzzles and surprises. Balthazar, incidentally, provides none of these. He’s a man created for and expected a life of constant extravagance , and Castiel finds that what he has discovered about his partner in the past few days is not something he thinks he can live with for very long. Extravagance isn’t an appearance Castiel can keep up with very well.

Yes, he decides, it’s probably time to move on before Balthazar becomes as boring to him as his paintings.

***

Sleeping in the same bed as Luke has been a weird experience. Sam is kind of a bed hog, as Dean liked to remind him various times during their childhood when there was only one bed available for them to share. He flung his legs and arms all over the place, octopus style, and usually ended up pulling anything in the bed with him to his chest. However he’d woken up this morning perfectly situated on his side of the bed, Luke on the other side still asleep.

Obviously some form of witchcraft.

Sam, like any other good college student, had taken Intro to Psych while still in his undergrad, and therefore he felt qualified to conclude that his unconscious mind must be trying to tell him something.

Yeah right. Qualified.

Whatever, he’s trying not to think about it, which is hard to do when he’s still in the same room as a sleeping Luke. So he’s heading off to get some breakfast, and hopefully to regain his sanity.

Dean had mentioned something about running into Castiel early the day before, but since he was supposed to be in the Oasis for the night, Sam’s surprised to see him sitting at a table, eating a piece of toast and looking incredibly rumpled.

Sam takes his time piling fruit onto his plate, waiting to see if Cas will acknowledge him or anything. He doesn’t look up though, which makes Sam hesitate a long moment before he decides to fuck it and sets his plate down across from Cas.

“Hey man, you’re up early.”

“Astute observation,” Cas grumbles, lifting his mug and taking a long gulp of coffee. Sam doesn’t have much experience with not-morning people, since he doesn’t mind being up and Dean always seems to be running on more cylinders than he actually possesses, but if he had to take a guess he’d assume Cas was a prime example.

“Why aren’t you back at the Oasis?” he asks, forging ahead. It’s not like there was much else to do.

"I found the company stifling,” he says shortly.

“Oh.” Sam metaphorically chews on that as he sticks a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth. Sounded like things weren’t going well with Balthazar then. That actually reminds him though. “Hey man, I wanted to say thanks.”

The dark haired man blearily lifts his head and just manages to look aware enough to know what’s going on. “For what?”

“Uh, it sounds dumb, but I guess for letting Dean go?” Sam rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Word is you’re not very invested in actually finding a romantic partner, and uh, Dean really needs to be, so, you know. Thanks for not keeping him and agreeing to that thing with Balthazar. He’d have ridden you as an excuse all the way to the finish line.”

Cas’ gaze has grown sharper as Sam talks, and now he’s frowning musingly. “Yes I suppose he could have been riding me,” he says, and Sam chokes a little, because gross, not an image he needs while eating. “Does Dean agree with you?”

“Agree with me? About what?” Sam asks, vaguely horrified Castiel is still talking about some kind of sexual act in correlation with his brother.

“That he needs to find a romantic partner,” Castiel clarifies. “Is it any business of yours what his goal is?”

Sam feels himself frowning before Cas has even finished his sentence. “I think I know what’s best for my brother.”

“That may be so, however it’s probably not wise to force these things on people.”

“I’m not _forcing_ it on him,” he snaps. “I’m providing him with a great opportunity. Yeah I can’t do anything about it if Dean doesn’t want to try, or if he doesn’t like somebody here, but I can sure as hell encourage him to get his ass out there.”

Castiel tilts his head. “Are you usually this pushy?”

“Look, you don’t know anything about us, so I don’t know why you’re getting upset,” he says angrily, stabbing his fork in Castiel’s direction.

“You’re right. Why don’t you tell me something?”

Sam blinks. “What?”

He leans back in his chair, bringing the coffee mug with him. “You pointed out I know nothing about you or Dean. Help me remedy that. Tell me something.”

Sam leans back, mirroring Castiel’s position. “Why?”

Cas looks at him like he’s dumb. ”You’ve pointed out a mistake I hadn’t realized I’d made. It’d be nice of you to tell me something about your lives so next time I decide to care about Dean, I have a reason to do so.”

Sam scowls a little at the snark while he debates the merits of telling Castiel something really bad about their past. Would that make him back off or cause him to become more interested? It was too hard to tell. Maybe something really boring would do it. Except Sam can’t remember a single moment of his life a normal person might consider boring. Everything was exciting, or dangerous, or just plain sad. Really sad. Shit, they had kind of a sad life. Alright Sam, focus.

Finally he says the simplest thing he can think of. “Dean is my family. He raised me.”

“Are you orphans?”

“We weren’t,” Sam says bitterly. “I’m not talking to you about my childhood.”

“Fair enough,” Castiel gives him a grim smile that probably shouldn’t count as a smile at all. “I had no siblings. The devotion you two show each other is fascinating. I’m not used to seeing people who live out of one another’s pockets interact.”            

Sam laughs, a hollow sound. “I don’t think Dean and I are the healthiest model.”

“Regardless.”

“Yeah,” he says shortly, standing up and grabbing his empty plate. “Anyway, thanks. I appreciate you kicking Dean to the curb, horrible as that sounds. Good luck, Castiel.”

“See you at the ceremony, Sam.”           

Sam doesn’t turn around, but he can feel Cas’ eyes on him until he’s out of sight of the patio.

***

Alright, so he hadn’t gone through with it. He hadn’t been able to watch the Oasis feed. Seeing Cas and Balthazar do whatever the hell they were doing was something he decided he just did not need in his life. He’s sure Charlie’s hack will come in useful for something later on, even just for entertainment, but seeing Cas having sex with someone is not on his list of must-sees.

Now he’s sitting in his assigned seat and geez, what is this, the fourth ceremony they were going through? Or is it the third? They’re all blurring together in Dean’s head in a mess of drama and Gabriel’s stupid smile.

Plus, he’s still being made to dress up, which has turned out to be total bullshit. Cas showed up last time in frayed jeans that made it really hard not to stare at his ass, and Dean doesn’t get why he’s the only one allowed that kind of advantage.

The ceremony actually gets started pretty quickly tonight, Gabriel yammering about how the ceremony works again (is the general American public really so dumb as to forget the rules in a week? Probably. Dean’s had some customers that prove it). Cas is seated up front on the special bench with Balthazar, and Dean has to resist the urge to kick the back of the seat like some snotty second grader.

Dean can feel Sam glaring at him. Somehow his little brother knows what he’s thinking. Either that or Sam’s just decided Dean is ruining his life, like he sometimes does. Or Dean’s embarrassing him. It could be a lot of reasons actually, Sam really likes any excuse to glare. So Dean ignores it and doesn’t turn around, keeping his eyes on Gabriel.

“Alright Cas and Balthazar, step on up,” Gabriel says, gesturing for them to come up front. “We’re getting to the point in the game where everyone’s pretty much felt everyone else out and have settled down. So how about you, Balthazar? You ready to make a commitment to Cas here?”

“Oh yes, I believe so,” Balthazar nods, and Dean isn’t imagining the smirk sent his way. “We had a very good time last night.”

"Fantastic.” Gabriel sounds the least enthusiastic he’s been since…well, since ever, and Dean wonders who pissed in his cornflakes this morning. “So Cassafrass, guess you’re feeling the same way.”

“Cassa –" he frowns and shakes his head, dropping it. Smart choice, in Dean’s opinion. Gabriel would’ve gotten that name engraved on Cas’ headstone if he knew it bothered him. “Actually, I think I’d like to try a challenge with Dean again.”

“Oh ho ho!” Gabriel finally cracks a huge grin, looking at Dean. “Come on up then, Wonder Bro number one! Balthazar, you’re going to have to move over to the unmatched area. What do you think of that, Deano?”

“Uh.” Dean still hasn’t gotten up from his seat. Hell, he’d have been content with sticking around with Bela for another round. The last thing he’d expected was for Cas to pick him, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

Then he notices the look on Balthazar’s face and gives Gabriel a casual grin in return. “Yeah, Cas and me, we got a special bond. I’m not surprised.”

“You might even call it profound,” Cas adds, and while to everyone else he looks completely straight faced, Dean can tell he’s was having fun.

Joining Cas in the matched couples area is kind of a weird experience. They’re supposed to stand guy behind girl, but since Charlie had introduced this same sex couples fest they’d mostly been going tallest behind shortest. Dean’s taller than Cas by maybe an inch, which means he gets a face full of hair that smells distinctly Cas-like. It’s kind of distracting, and Dean loses track of what’s going on while wondering if a shampoo company has somehow discovered how to bottle the smell of air right before a storm or if it was just Cas.

“So, Sam?”

Dean’s head shoots up. Becky and Chuck are upfront, and Becky is staring at Sam (more like boring a hole into his skull) with a pleading look on her face.

“Wait, what’s going on?” he whispers into Cas’ ear.

Cas’ shoulders stiffen slightly before relaxing, body swaying back towards Dean. “Bela chose Balthazar, and now Becky is asking your brother to partner up with her,” he murmurs.

Ah, the woes of being Sammy. The kid’s too popular for his own good. Between Becky and Luke, Dean’s not even sure if there’s a lesser of two evils in this situation.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause. Sam certainly takes his time answering. Luke doesn’t seem bothered at all next to him, keeping his casual pose with elbows rested on his splayed knees. “Sorry Becky, but I don’t think so,” Sam answers finally.

Huh. That was not what Dean had expected to happen.

“Alright Becky,” Gabriel says. “Move on over—“

“But why?” Becky bursts out, stomping her foot. “Why are you staying with Luke?”

His brother looks supremely uncomfortable at the question, but Dean is kind of curious to hear the answer too. From what he’s seen so far of Luke, he can’t say he’s impressed. "I—I don’t know. I just am.”

“Maybe Sam is sensitive to high pitched noises,” Luke suggests.

“Like you’re one to talk!” she cries, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’ve been sleeping with Meg!”

“Wow, awkward,” Meg speaks up from near the back. She’s smiling kind of smugly, which Dean figures seals the deal on whether or not what Becky said is true.

“Do you have a point?” Luke asks, sounding bored.

Becky’s face has transformed into a stubborn pout, yet she still manages to stare daggers at Luke. “Sam deserves someone who appreciates him. You’re just – you’re just an asshole, is what you are.”

Dean hates to agree with crazy Becky, but he has to, one hundred percent. Sam deserves someone as infinitely as good as he is, not a guy like Luke, who seems pretty emotionless and apparently has sex with people like Meg.

“Choosing to sleep with Meg says a lot about his character,” Cas mutters in front of him, as if he can read his mind. Dean leans slightly forward and hides his smile in Cas’ hair. He’s had the fortune so far of not personally experiencing Meg, but he’s seen enough to know that he never, ever wants to.

“As entertaining as all of this is,” Gabriel says loudly, apparently deciding it’s time to gain back control of his show, “Becky, Sam said no. You have to go to the unmatched area.”

Becky turns her glare on Gabriel before practically stomping to the unmatched area. That’s Sam though, turning fully grown women into emotional wrecks since 1983.

After that, Chuck halfheartedly makes an attempt at asking Jo to be his partner, to which Jo very politely declines. Every other couple chooses to stay together, and it’s a wonder this show manages to stay interesting halfway through if nobody is going to switch anymore.

“Unfortunately Becky and Chuck, it’s time to say goodbye. Sorry you guys couldn’t find love in the wild,” Gabriel announces to the room at large. “Wave bye bye to your friends and get outta the country.”

Becky leaves without looking back, but Chuck has the courtesy to timidly say goodbye to everybody before running to catch up to her. Dean hopes Chuck is able to bag that, even if Becky is insane. Guy looks like he could use a girlfriend.

Drama aside, tonight has been a bit anti-climactic. Dean is disappointed.

“Well,” Castiel says, turning to look at him. “Should we go to our cabin?”

Oh yeah. He and Cas get to share a bed, don’t they?

Pasting on a confident look he hopes masks any of the sudden unsteadiness he’s feeling, Dean nods. “Yeah, super. Let’s go.”


	6. Chapter 5

As they head back to the cabin, Castiel convinces himself that the only reason he chose Dean as his partner is to prove Sam wrong.

Sure, he was going to drop Balthazar anyway, and since he had come in first he literally could have picked anyone. He might have too, if Sam Winchester, with his big eyes and cryptic comments about Dean’s childhood, hadn’t come lumbering in and started thanking him for letting Dean off the hook so he could go find a suitable partner.

The conversation had given him the extreme urge to put a stop to that. Plus Sam had made him angry by implying Cas had no right to care about Dean. So really, Sam only had himself to blame. He’d practically dared Castiel to partner back up with his brother.

“So.” Castiel looks at Dean, waiting for him to say more, but the man is staring straight ahead and doesn’t seem like he’s going to continue.

“So?” Castiel asks finally. There’s some sort of awkward tension in the air, and he doesn’t like it at all. But he doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“We’re partners again,” he smiles. “Maybe you won’t dump me this time.”

It’s said jokingly, but Castiel feels he is becoming rather fluent in Dean Winchester, and translates the sentence to _please don’t leave me again._

He’s bad at promises, so all he says in return is, “Don’t give me a reason to.” It seems to work, though. Dean’s smile gets bigger and he even pushes into Castiel with his shoulder a little, knocking him sideways.

“You better not, asshat. Don’t think I could really stand anyone else here ‘cept Charlie, Gilda, Benny or Jo, and they’re all too busy making stupid eyes at each other.”

“Aw, look Ruby, the gang’s all back together again.”

Castiel tenses at the sound of Meg’s sing-song voice and feels Dean do the same beside him. He isn’t sure what reasons Dean has for disliking Meg, but he has decided to be wary of her after her assault on him a few days ago.

“Shouldn’t you be causing trouble somewhere or something?” Dean asks stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Although theoretically Meg and Ruby look nothing alike, Castiel still finds them very similar whenever he considers them. Meg is curvy and brunette while Ruby is thin and blonde, yet both tended to share the same range of sneering to smug facial expressions, and both seemed used to getting their own way. Castiel hasn’t interacted much with Ruby, but he’d heard her and Meg squabbling during competitions, both of them trying to gain enough leverage to justify bossing the other around.

“Go find your fun somewhere else,” Cas says calmly, placing a hand on Dean’s wrist. “We’re leaving now.”

Dean shakes his head in disgust but actually seems to be listening to Castiel before Ruby speaks up. “So Dean, how’s it for knowing your brother’s only good enough for sloppy seconds? I mean, you too, if we’re being honest here, since Castiel clearly liked Balthazar better than you. Do you think it’s something in your family’s genes?”

Dean, whose muscles had relaxed somewhat under Castiel’s touch, instantly tightens up again. “Don’t talk about my brother.”

“I think you struck a nerve Ruby,” Meg laughs, nudging the girl. “You here to defend little bro’s honor, Dean? Think Luke is the one you should be talking to.”

Castiel has the feeling Dean is a coiled spring, waiting for the perfect moment to jump Meg, and to be honest, he isn’t sure he has much incentive to stop him, besides the fact that Dean might regret it later. “Sam’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,” Dean says firmly, although Castiel doesn’t miss the slight uncertainty in his tone.

“Oh, a big boy, is he?” Meg laughs. “You sure about that, Dean-o?”

“Seriously,” Ruby says, her face twisting in disbelief, “Are you sure your brother actually went to Stanford and didn’t spend four years smoking a bong in the back of some dude’s van? I mean nobody dumb enough to trust Luke could be Ivy League material.”

“Careful Ruby, we can’t blame little brother,” Meg smiles nastily. “Luke always gets what he wants. It’s Dean’s bad for not taking care of his baby boy.”

Ruby sighs. “I just would not trust Luke around Sam. You make a horrible mother, Dean.”

“You shut up about my brother!” Dean shouts, managing to rip his arm away from Cas and stomping towards the two girls. “Listen here bitch, if I hear one word about you messing with Sam, you’re gonna be in a world of pain so bad it’ll take you years to find the exit. Same goes for Luke.”

Ruby whistles. “Deano’s got bark.”

“You bet your ass I’ve got –“

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts, pulling him back again, surprised when Dean comes easily. “This isn’t doing anything to help us.”

“It’d fucking help me not to see her damn face anymore,” Dean grinds out.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get you to walk away.”

“No need, we’re going,” Meg says, looking supremely satisfied with herself. “Just remember, we tried to warn you Dean. Don’t come crying to us when Sam’s a broken mess and it’s all your fault. I don’t do the pity thing.”

“Hey, I’ll totally shower lil’ Sammy in some pity,” Ruby says, winking suggestively. Dean growls low in his throat and makes a sharp movement that has Castiel tightening his grip on him and pulling him even closer, until Dean is practically standing on top of him.

“Bye Clarence and the Dean!” Meg sings, waving at them as she and Ruby saunter away.

Castiel tears his attention away from them to look back at Dean, who is breathing heavily and glaring at the ground. Hopefully the grass hasn’t offended Dean either. Castiel isn’t sure how much longer he can hold him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he says almost immediately, shaking off Castiel’s hand. He looks up and his eyes focus on Castiel’s face, widening slightly in surprise at how close they are. “Um.”

Castiel watches the emotions play across Dean’s face in apparent fascination, how it goes from surprise to uncertainty to a strange sort of determination. His lips have suddenly gone dry, so he licks them, and Dean makes a sound low in his throat, Adams apple bobbing.

“Cas,” he mutters, leaning forward slightly.

The cameraman that has been following them back to the cabin decides it’s the perfect moment to break into a coughing fit.

“What?” Castiel asks, but Dean is already pulling away, putting his back to the camera.

“Personal space man,” is all he says. “Let’s try to keep it to more than two inches.”

Castiel is ninety-nine percent sure Dean was going to kiss him, and whether it would have served to get the strange feeling he gets in his gut when he’s around Dean to go away, or whether it would have led to fast and dirty sex they never again acknowledged, he’s still mad at the interruption. He sends the cameraman a withering glare, and although he can’t see the man’s face behind his giant lens, he shuffles nervously enough to satisfy Castiel.

“Sorry about that,” Dean is saying, and he’s already started walking again, so Castiel does so also. “I get kind of worked up about stuff, especially stuff to do with Sam.”

"You seem very loyal to Sam,” Castiel observes.

“Well yeah,” he snorts. “I mean he’s family, its kinda part of the package.”

“Sam says you raised him.”

“Did he?” Dean asks, looking surprised. “Huh. Weird. He never likes admitting we didn’t have a normal childhood.”

“You don’t think you did a good job?” Cas says sharply.

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” he shrugs, which isn’t really an answer. “Sam’s always gonna be upset because he thought it was dad who should’ve been around more.”

Ah. Castiel has experience with this. He asks carefully, “Shouldn’t he have been?”

“He was,” Dean says defensively. “He was just out earning money a lot, which we needed for food and shit, Cas. He did his best.”

Dean’s voice had taken on a defensive note, so Cas decides to go in the opposite direction. “What about your mother?”

“Dead,” he says shortly. “Anything else, or can we end this conversation now?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel says quietly, unsure how to really console him. Usually the other man seems to revel in touch, as Castiel has observed whenever Dean is around Sam, or like just now, when he had grabbed Dean’s arm. But his words have made Dean draw in on himself, and he isn’t sure how to get him to open up again.

“Why is Sam here?”

“Probably to keep an eye on me,” Dean sighs, taking the steps up to the porch of their cabin two at a time. Castiel hasn’t been moved since he first arrived on the show, so incidentally it’s the cabin they first started out in. “And uh, I don’t think Sam’s had too much time to date in college. He’s probably worried about his ticking biological clock.”

Castiel follows Dean up the stairs and through the screen door. “That is a women’s problem.”

“Gee, great job getting the joke there, Cas,” Dean says sarcastically, and Castiel feels a sense of relief wash over him. It’s amazing how Dean can go from dangerously furious to morose to his usual self again within the space of minutes, and Castiel finds he can’t look away from this constant display of emotion, no matter how subtle Dean attempts to make it. “Now,” he rubs his hands together, something Castiel notices he does when he’s about to introduce an idea. “We should probably get over ourselves tonight and share the bed.”

***

Dean wakes up with his face buried in warmth and nose filled with the smell of grass just after rain. He opens his eyes slowly and, seeing nothing, pulls back to reveal his face had been shoved into the back of Castiel’s neck.

He scowls and pulls back the covers, wondering how Castiel hadn’t woken up from that. It’s only because he was so recently used to sharing the bed with Cassie, but you’d think his unconscious mind would have some boundaries.

He hasn’t even had the courtesy to forgo the morning wood.

He bangs around the room getting dressed and goes to take a piss, all the while wondering how Cas is sleeping through the noise. He must be one hell of a heavy sleeper. Deciding to test his theory, he walks over to Cas’ side of the bed to crouch down and peer at him.

His face is completely relaxed in sleep, forehead smooth and devoid of all the confused and pissed lines he puts to use so often when he’s awake. Without really knowing why, Dean reaches out and strokes a finger lightly over Cas’ cheek.

Not even a twitch. Huh.

Deciding to leave before he does anything else weird, Dean hauls himself off the floor and leaves to grab Sam from his cabin. His brother answers the door dressed but still bleary eyed, hair mussed up in a way severely reminiscent of a sorority girl after a night of binge drinking and hookups.

“Nice hair Samantha,” he says loudly. “Late night?”

“Dean,” Sam hisses, coming out onto the porch and shutting the door behind him. “Shut up.”

Dean manages to catch a glimpse of Luke still asleep in bed, with half the sheets pulled back, and widens his eyes at Sam, “Are you _sharing_ a bed?”

“Are you?” Sam shoots back, and Dean shuts up, not saying anything else until they’ve gathered their food and are sitting across from each other at a table beside the pool.

Dean lets Sam stuff two chicken’s worth of eggs into his mouth before commenting, “So, you’re into dick now?”

He watches in satisfaction as Sam coughs half the mess of eggs back onto his plate. “What?” he chokes, making a grab for his coffee.

“You. Are into dick now,” Dean repeats, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Unless Luke doesn’t have one.”

“Luke and I aren’t—we’re not doing that,” Sam sputters.

“Then why are you staying partners with him? You keep buggin’ me to find someone, why the hell are you wasting your time?”

“Well I didn’t want to be with Becky!” Sam protests. “Luke’s…I don’t know. He’s interesting. I’m figuring stuff out.”

“It goes up the ass, Sam,” Dean says confidently, jabbing his finger straight up into the air and making a ‘pop’ noise. Sam gives him a very dirty look.

“Funny. You’re an animal, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Even if you are into guys all of a sudden,” he says, serious now. “I don’t like this Luke guy, Sam. I mean really? He had sex with _Meg_? Meg! Cas had to stop me from practically stabbing her yesterday. And she said some weird shit. I don’t trust him. “

“I don’t know what that’s about,” Sam mutters, looking put out for reasons Dean can’t even begin to fathom. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think he was having sex with Meg, I guess. It’s none of my business though, so why should you care?”

“Because you deserve somebody good,” Dean says, looking him dead in the eye. “Don’t you ever forget that, Sam. This Luke guy is just fucking around, and I don’t wanna have to console your girly crying ass.”

“Maybe I just need someone who challenges me,” Sam argues. “I can take care of the good part. And I can handle Luke.”

Dean grunts but decides to drop the subject, so Sam asks, “What about you anyway? You’re the one wasting your time with Cas again. Unless you’ve decided you like him now, after insisting you didn’t.”

"Still don’t like Cas,” Dean says firmly, stabbing a hash brown. “Least not like that. He’s a cool guy. A dorky, pissy, yet somehow cool guy.”

“Regardless, I’m pretty sure he likes you,” Sam smirked.

Dean stops stabbing the various pieces of food still left on his plate to look at Sam. Either Sam’s fucking with him or he seriously believes what he’s saying, but is still using it to fuck with Dean. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not cool, and Dean doesn’t believe his brother for a second.

Basically Sam’s trying to get him to play, ‘what’d he say about me’ and he refuses to fall for it.

“You’re so full of shit Sam.”

“No, really,” Sam says earnestly, slathering some organically grown, hippie stomped on jam onto his whole grain wheat toast. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Why?” Dean asks suspiciously, and yeah, he broke easily. Because he’s a sucker.

“Yesterday he and I had a talk—“

“A talk?” Dean echoes, trying to imagine how something like that would go. What was with all these fucking secret meetings Cas and his brother kept having? From what he knows about the two of them, he can see a couple of existing outcomes: they either use them to geek out over something incredibly stupid, like the difference between teal and turquoise (what else does Cas even like besides art? Mental note – get to know Cas better) or they end up almost coming to blows, because both of them are stubborn idiots.

“Yeah, a talk. You know, when two people stand near each other and words come out of their mouths. I thanked him for leaving you alone so you could, you know, go off and explore people you might actually consider dating.”

“Wow Sam, great use of tact. I bet Cas was really pleased with what you were insinuating.” Dean knew from firsthand experience Cas was not very happy with the free love image Dean himself had admittedly attached to him.

“He wasn’t too happy, I guess,” Sam concedes, frowning. “But he seemed pretty cool with it, all in all. Which makes why he chose you again a little weird, don’t you think?”

Dean lets out a loud laugh, wondering how his ridiculously smart brother could be so dumb sometimes. “It’s not weird at all, Sam. He’s being a shit. He only chose me because you told him you were happy we weren’t partners.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “Son of a bitch is cockblocking me just to piss you off.”

Sam looks unconvinced as he watches Dean. “But he’s looking for a partner too, isn’t he? Who would be petty enough to drop all that just to spite you?”

Dean thinks about it for a second. The idea has merit, but Cas was the ‘cut off your nose to spite your face’ kind of guy, through and through. And he’d probably just raise a derisive eyebrow if he heard Sam call him petty. “Nah. This is totally something Cas would do just to be an asshole. I mean, did you piss him off?”

“He pissed me off,” Sam muttered, and that’s all Dean needs to hear. They practically came to blows. He’d totally called it.

“There you go,” Dean says smugly. “He doesn’t like me Sam. We’re trying to be friends. I get the feeling Cas doesn’t have any, and god knows I don’t, so shut up and let us be, alright? Your stupid obsession with lovey dovey crap is going to ruin everything.”

“You do realize we’re on a lovey dovey crap show, right?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dean throws a piece of bacon at him. “Doesn’t mean I gotta deal with you, bitch.”

Sam catches it and watches in mild disgust as copious amounts of grease slide down his fingers. “Whatever, jerk.”

***

Sam’s fairly sure there’s something weird going on between Dean and Cas. He’d eat greasy cheeseburgers for a week if he was wrong, that’s how sure he is. But Dean’s going to be oblivious or in denial until the end of time, or at the very least, until he receives a smack in the face. Hell, even with a smack in the face it might take him time, but he should get there eventually. There’s really nothing Sam can do at this moment, so he leaves Dean to wake Castiel. “Doesn’t fucking wake up for shit”, Dean’s grumbling as they part, and Sam seriously doesn’t want to know what Dean’s already done, or is planning on doing.

He heads back to his cabin and finds Luke doing that creepily accurate facing the door thing again. He knows Luke’s not wasting his time just sitting at the door waiting for him, because that’s simply not something Luke would do, yet he still manages to be staring right at the door when Sam walks in.

“Uh. Hey.”

“Hello Sam,” Luke says evenly, relaxing minutely against the wall, as if just the sight of Sam is reassuring. “Did you have a good breakfast?”

“Yeah, I ate with Dean,” he awkwardly looks around, taking in the cabin. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” he waves the apology off. “We haven’t discussed what happened at the ceremony last night.”

“Was there something to discuss?” Sam asks, running a hand through his hair and making a face as he hits on a tangle. He actually likes it long, but any time he starts getting frustrated with his hair for pulling shit like this, he has to remember how Dean hates it to give him the energy to soldier on.

“Yes,” Luke pushes off the wall and takes a step closer, a tiny frown line appearing between his eyes. Sam’s never seen it before and is weirdly fixated by it. “I wasn’t under the impression you particularly enjoyed being my partner, Sam.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam shrugs. “I’d have enjoyed Becky even less, alright? Don’t – don’t think it’s because you’re special or something, you were just the better choice.”

A small quirk of Luke’s lips clues Sam in on the fact that he’s smiling, and although it’s slightly jaded, Sam thinks it’s one of the best he’s seen. “Interesting,” he says.

Sam takes it for the gratitude it is without comment and goes to untangle his stupid hair.

***

Despite the fact that Castiel was woken by being pushed out of the bed and onto the floor this morning, he’s in a relatively good mood. The look of surprise and slight fear on Dean’s face when Cas had met his gaze from the floor made up for most of it right off the bat, and taking a shower with Dean’s off tune singing floating through the bathroom door had gone a long way in eradicating any prissiness he may have managed to muster up.

He’s not exactly interested in exploring how Dean can make him feel better without even trying – he just feels that the rest of the world should be grateful that he can.

Now he’s trying to find the way to the start of the competition, piece of toast in hand. Dean had already gone ahead, complaining Cas was slower than a drunk sloth and that he’d see him there. Cas had informed Dean that if a sloth was drunk it would likely be quicker than usual, since it would mean it had digested it’s food faster and therefore given itself more energy, but Dean just called him a dork and walked away mumbling under his breath.

“Howdy stranger!”

Charlie comes charging up from behind Cas and threads an arm easily through his, as if they’ve been friends their whole lives and are just now meeting up again for the first time in years. Castiel wishes he could accept freely given affection of the type that Charlie is offering, but he barely knows her, and his body tenses up without his consent.

“Hello Charlie,” he says calmly, trying to bring himself down from fight or flight mode. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well first of all, you looked a little lost,” she smiles, and indeed, Castiel notices she has started steering him in a different direction. “And we’re like halfway through the show and I’ve never talked to you!”

“Has that bothered you?” Castiel’s brow furrows in confusion. It’s in his experience that people are usually happier not having to deal with interacting socially with him.

“Well yeah.” Charlie’s face is bright, and like Dean, Castiel finds himself unwillingly drawn to her personality. Is he getting soft or is this show naturally stocked with people designed to break down his walls?

“You seem interesting,” she continues, nodding along with herself. “Besides, the other day Dean and I found out we’re like _this_ ,” she crosses two fingers together, “so I figured I should probably hit you up too. Just in case you’re another instant.”

“Is it usual for you to make friends instantly?” he asks, curious. He would assume so, since Charlie was open and bubbly whereas he was closed off and generally kept his emotions in check. It should stand to reason she would be better at making friends than him.

“If I want them to be my friend,” Charlie answers, looking dead serious. She tilts her head at him. “Yesterday I called Dean Han, but maybe I should change him to Kirk. You’re definitely giving off a Spock-ish vibe.”

“Excuse me?”

“Spock?” she says, for some reason sticking her index fingers straight up at the sides of her ears. “You know. Space: the final frontier!”

“Sorry,” he replies, realizing they had reached a field much like the one in the last challenge. Except this one was devoid of trees, with a dirt trail cutting straight through it and disappearing into the distance. There is also, for some reason, a giant pile of coconuts situated in the center of the field. Castiel can see Dean clearly, standing tall and confident next to Sam, outlined by the bright sun. He’s hit with the sudden and violent wish for his paints, which is strange. He’s only ever painted landscapes before – never people.

Realizing Charlie hasn’t spoken in a few minutes, he rips his gaze from Dean to find her gaping at him, mouth open and eyes comically wide. “No Star Trek?”

“No,” he says slowly, worrying he’s somehow managed to revert her to an incredibly simplistic way of speaking.

"I’ll find you later,” she promises, and Castiel hopes he’s imagining the dark undertone to her voice as she gives him one more look before heading off to find Gilda.

“You meet Charlie?” Dean greets Cas when he joins him, grinning. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“I think she’s threatened me somehow,” Cas tells him, still running over the conversation in his head.

“Dude, I’d run.” Dean manages to hold the serious expression for all of ten seconds before he bursts into laughter. “But seriously,” he manages to get out, “I’d be slightly worried.”

“Duly noted,” he replies, attempting to summon up annoyance at Dean’s response and failing miserably. Something is very wrong with him when the only emotions available, when one has to be chosen at all, are positive.

“What’d you do anyway?” Dean asks, looking amused and probably imagining the millions of ridiculous things he thinks Castiel could do to upset a female.

Castiel has, incidentally, upset many females before. The list could be quite long.

“I actually have no idea.”

“It’s alright buddy, I’ll try to protect your manhood.” Surprisingly he gets a pat on the shoulder before Dean is turning to face Gabriel, who has arrived in typical late fashion, two younger PAs trailing behind him. One is holding a glass of soda and the other has a plate of various cheeses in her hands.

Dean perks up beside him at the sight, and Castiel has to seriously struggle not to smile. “I doubt the cheese is for us, Dean.”

“Still, at the very least Bobby’s finally gonna break and just beat his ass.”

Sure enough, Bobby is stomping away from his perch by the center most camera and towards Gabriel. “Dammit Gabriel! I’m getting damn tired of playing this game with you!”

“I’m not,” Gabriel calls back, smirking. “I’m winning.”

Bobby gets up in Gabriel’s space, comically almost towering over the much shorter man. “Lose the personal assistants,” he growls.

Dean nudges Cas and says in a delighted whisper, “Can you believe we’re seeing this for free? My money’s on Bobby. I’d kill to see him throw a punch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cas says quietly. Dean looks at him in disappointment, but Cas continues, “Gabriel will undoubtedly play dirty. Bobby will never touch him.”

“Aw, Cas, why you gotta disagree with me?” Dean groans, but he looks happy, and Castiel smiles slightly, mentally patting himself on the back for playing along correctly.

The posturing is still going on in the middle of the field, and Castiel is beginning to wonder if they’ll ever start filming when Jody decides enough is enough. “Alright boys, zip up your pants!” she yells from across the field. “We’re losing daylight!”

"Lose the PAs and start showing up on time,” Bobby says gruffly.

Gabriel ignores him and blows a kiss in Jody’s direction. “Only because you asked so nicely, Jody!”

Dean huffs in disappointment. “Damn. Would’ve been better than TV.”

“Considering the one show we have exposure to here, I’d have to agree.”

Gabriel starts clapping his hands together to get their attention as soon as he’s sent the two PAs away, shading his eyes to take in the seven remaining couples. “Hope everyone enjoyed the little skit Bobby and I put on for you,” he says, sounding extremely satisfied with himself. “Tune in next time when I try to finally get the grumpy old bastard laid.”

“WE’RE FUCKIN’ ROLLING, GABRIEL.”

He rolls his eyes and pastes on a wide, cheesy grin that looks painful to maintain. “Congratulations to everyone for making it to week number four! Hopefully those of you that chose to switch it up will find something you’d like to hang onto in your new partner.”

Castiel hears Balthazar’s distinct snort from down the line and feels a slight pang of guilt for dumping him so unceremoniously.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the cliché about relationships and equality, but I’m here to tell you it’s true folks. You take something and your partner expects to get a return of equal value sometime in the future. Here in Costa Rica they call that bartering, and they actually use it in a useful way,” Gabriel shrugs in a ‘who knew’ kind of manner. “Today we’ve decided to make your lives as complicated as possible by providing you with a shit load of coconuts. You need to get fifty five of them down this long dirt road, where you’re going to find a bunch of clueless looking guys standing around with horses. Trade the coconuts for a horse – yeah you heard me right – and ride that thing to the end of the line in style.

“Now, you may be thinking, but Gabriel, what is that pile of junk next to the giant ass pile of coconuts for?”

Gabriel pauses, looking around at them, a thoroughly bored expression on his face.

“Well gee Gabriel,” Dean finally says, “what is it for?”

“Great question Deano! Within that pile of junk is the makings of seven wheelbarrows, if you should choose to waste your time building one. Use the wheelbarrow, don’t use the wheelbarrow, take one trip, take four. No one cares. Just get the nice horsey man the damn fifty five coconuts he needs so badly. Manage your time. I’ll be waiting for you at the end. All set?”

There’s a general noise of agreement from everybody and suddenly Gabriel seems to be taking great pleasure in running away from them, yelling “go!” as he does.

“Come on Cas,” Dean says, tugging at his arm to get his attention. Castiel is still, incidentally, staring after Gabriel.

"Did he just run away?”

“He’s fuckin’ weird, I’m ignoring it.” Dean seems to be running on a one track mind right now, leading Castiel to the pile of junk he’s not completely convinced can be turned into a wheelbarrow.

“Dean, no, that will waste time. Let’s just get as many coconuts as we can and come back.”

Dean scoffs. “No way. I can build this thing in under a minute and we can do it all in one trip. Quit worrying Cas.”

“Dean—“

“Cas,” Dean has already started gathering parts, two small wheels at his feet and a wooden handle in hand. He’s looking at Cas now with a concentrated look on his face, handle forgotten. “You gotta trust me, okay?”

Cas sighs. “Fine. I will go begin loading coconuts into the bag.”

He sees Dean falter out of the corner of his eye as he walks away, though he doesn’t stop to ask why. Bela and Balthazar have already disappeared down the dirt road with a handful of coconuts each, and Victor, Anna, Charlie and Gilda aren’t far behind them. Meg and Ruby seem to be the only ones bothering with the wheelbarrow as Dean is, though Castiel has measures more confidence in Dean’s ability than theirs.

His faith does not go unrewarded – he manages to shove eight coconuts into the roomy backpack before he hears wheels trundling across the grass towards him. Dean reaches him just as he straightens up, and Cas barely has time to admire their rusty, made-from-scratch wheelbarrow before Dean is throwing coconuts into it.

“Pick up the slack, Cas,” Dean grunts. Cas stops watching the flex and bulge of Dean’s muscles under his shirt as he gathers coconuts and quickly begins throwing more in, until the wheelbarrow is piled high.

“You were right,” he admits, going to lift the handles, but Dean beats him to it, smirking in satisfaction. “Told you to trust me,” he says, and there’s a hint of pride in his voice that Castiel wonders at. How often has Dean asked for and been granted trust before?

They start down the dirt road, and Castiel decides he should ask, if he really wants to know. Usually he has no problem saying the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems Dean is teaching him delicacy without even trying. Castiel hates the idea of upsetting him for some reason, no matter how much he might want to see Dean’s face in such a state for research and painting purposes.

Somewhere along the way, Dean’s feelings have gained priority over Castiel’s work.

“Was there any reason not to?” he asks, making his voice just light enough to sound joking, if Dean prefers to hear it that way.

Obviously Dean realizes this, since he hesitates for a second before answering. “I don’t really trust anybody with anything, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if you decided to do the same.”

“You don’t trust anybody?”

“I trust Sammy,” Dean amends, flicking his eyes towards Castiel. “Probably used to trust my ex, but she ended up shooting a hole in my chest, so yeah. Back to the don’t trust anybody thing.”

“Ex?” Castiel suddenly realizes he has no idea why Dean is here other than what Sam has told him about his brother needing a girlfriend. He hadn’t considered there might be an ex into the equation, which was stupid of him, really.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, clearly unwilling to talk about it. “Didn’t work out, obviously. You know how it is.”

Castiel answers yes because it’s what is expected of him, but he really doesn’t know how it is. He has never had a boyfriend before. When his father was alive it just wasn’t possible, and when the old bastard had finally kicked the bucket, Castiel had seen no point. He was not wont for sex, had no hole in his soul for a partner to fill, and therefore deemed it useless to try and find someone to hand so much of himself over to. Sure, there were one night stands that turned into week stands and then occasionally even months, but Castiel had never allowed another person to know him, or to carry the true weight of responsibility for his wellbeing.

A line of horses was coming into sight, each one with a handler standing near it. Most of them were a whole mix of colors, browns and tans, but Dean made a beeline straight for the horse at the very end, which was a dark, inky black.

“Fifty-five,” the man standing next to the horse says, and Dean drops the wheelbarrow, clearly eager to get going. He begins pulling coconuts out and dumping them in the designated area, muttering under his breath as he counts. Cas watches quietly and adds three more from the backpack when needed, and the reigns are handed over to Dean.

“Helmet.” The horse’s handler shoves what looks like a bicycle helmet into Dean’s hands.

Dean scoffs. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I spent my formative years on a ranch, buddy.”

The man just stares at him silently.

“I would like to ride the horse,” Castiel offers, reaching for the helmet before Dean can object.

Dean lets him strap the ridiculous thing on with a pinched look on his face. “You ever ride a horse before, Cas?”

“No, but I’m sure I can manage. I’m quite good at riding in other respects.” It’s that comment that allows Castiel to mount the horse without any objection from Dean, who is staring a little slack jawed into the distance.

“Dean, you need to lead the horse,” Castiel prompts. Meg and Ruby have arrived and are in the process of acquiring their animal, and Castiel is not eager to share the entire ride in their presence. Which means they need to get going.

“Use your thighs to keep your balance,” Dean instructs sternly, but he takes the lead and begins walking the horse down the road.

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel replies. He doesn’t see why Dean is so worried. Besides the gentle rocking of the horse moving forward, it’s pretty much like straddling a chair.

“Cas,” Dean says in a pained voice. “I was imagining you bare assed and riding my dick not two seconds ago, can you try to sound so accommodating?”

Cas lets out a surprised burst of laughter and for some reason Dean spins around to stare wide eyed at him. The horse snorts in disgust at the sudden stop but settles down easily. “Did you just _laugh_?”

“I think that’s the sound I just made, yes.”

“Well you’re just a walking turn on, aren’t you?” Dean makes a face again, stroking the horse’s nose before turning to move forward again. They’re coming up on a small stream they’ll need to cross to keep going, and Castiel hopes the horse can do it. He has no experience with horses. Can they be afraid of water, like cats?

They’re stopped at the edge of the water, Dean easily coaxing the horse in (Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if the beast wasn’t half in love with him by now. Certainly the continuous humming and calling the horse ‘baby’ in an affectionate tone might be helping somewhat) when Meg and Ruby catch up to them. The path isn’t wide enough for them to pass, so they’ll be forced to wait until their horse is fully in the water.

“Slow much?” Ruby asks snidely from atop the horse.

“Having problems with your horsey, boys?” Meg adds. “Show him who’s boss, Deano. I’d suggest comparing sizes, but we don’t want you to get embarrassed.”

Dean peers around the horse to look at her. “Did you just try to insult me by telling me I have a cock smaller than this horse?” Dean asks disbelievingly. “God, I hope so. And it’s a girl Meg. Thought it was pretty obvious by how much more attractive she is than you.”

“Ass face,” Cas nods, because he feels like it needs to be said.

Meg’s face twists into an ugly grimace, but she does stop talking, which Castiel will count as a win. Dean turns his attention back to getting the horse across the stream, and he begins to think they’ll get away without anymore unwanted interaction.

It was a lofty wish.

Meg and Ruby are whispering behind him, and he doesn’t even think to pay attention until Meg loudly announces, “This is taking too long.” Castiel twists in the saddle to say something to her, a cutting remark forming on his lips, when he is promptly jarred from the saddle, bouncing into an awkward sitting position. Dean gives a shout, but it’s too late. The horse has taken off at a much faster pace than Cas can ever hope to control, especially without reigns, and he can only cling for dear life with his legs and to the mane of the horse. He feels the second his grip loosens just enough, and is silently thankful for the ridiculous helmet he was forced to wear as he hits the ground with a thud.

He’s landed heavily on his left side towards the edge of the path, and there is a deep, bone pinching pain in his wrist that hurts so badly he doesn’t want to look at it for fear of what he’ll see.

“CAS!”

Cas manages to lift himself into a sitting position, wincing at the ache in his bones as Dean comes tearing down the path and promptly drops into the dirt next to him.

“Jesus,” he says frantically, eyes running over Castiel’s body. “Son of a bitch, Cas. Are you hurt? Jesus. I couldn’t hold her, I don’t know what happened—“

Castiel’s pretty sure Meg probably did something to the horse, but his wrist is a much more pressing matter at the moment. “Dean,” he says through gritted teeth. “My wrist.”

“Let me see it,” Dean says immediately. Castiel holds out his hand to Dean, still not looking at it, and hears a sharp intake of breath. Gentle fingers probe at his bone, and as much as it hurts, Cas manages to stay quiet.

"Nothing’s sticking out or anything,” Dean murmurs gently, still running his fingers over Castiel’s wrist. “I can’t feel any breaks, but I’m not a doctor Cas, so we gotta get to the finish line.”

Cas looks pointedly at the cameraman who has managed to catch up with them and Dean follows his gaze, frowning. “Hey asshole, shouldn’t you be doing something?”

The man shrugged. “I radioed it in, they got the medical staff waiting. It’s not like he can’t walk.”

Dean shoots him an incredibly dark look that for some reason has the opposite intended effect on Castiel, warmth blooming through his chest. “Let me see your side,” Dean says, and without waiting for a response lifts Castiel’s shirt and sucks in a deep breath at what he sees. “You’re gonna bruise in the morning,” he says softly, running a gentle hand down Castiel’s side and causing him to shiver. Dean mistakes the movement for something else, because he quickly assures him, “Don’t worry, it’ll look pretty badass. Believe me, I’ve had enough to know.”

Standing up and brushing his knees off, Dean carefully helps Cas up and offers his shoulder for support.

“My wrist is hurt,” Castiel says petulantly, staring at him in confusion.

Dean’s lips twitch. “But I bet your side ain’t gonna be any fun either. C’mon Cas, humor me.”  

Cas is glad he takes the offer, because a moment later Meg and Ruby pass by, sniggering, and he’s pretty sure his weight is the only thing stopping Dean from going after them.

“God Cas, I fucking suck. I’m sorry,” Dean mutters as soon as Meg and Ruby are far enough ahead. He sounds wrecked about it, like he actually believes it’s his fault, and for the first time it occurs to Castiel that Dean probably is blaming himself.

"Dean, that horse was twice as strong as you. Frankly, I’d have been more upset if you had managed to hold it, because it means I’d have to figure out which superhero you are.”

“I’m Batman, obviously,” Dean says immediately, but he still doesn’t sound too happy. Castiel wishes he knew how to convince him. He wants to tell Dean his suspicions about Meg, but he doesn’t want him to do anything rash, so he keeps it to himself and leans harder into Dean in a stupid effort to provide comfort.

Has Castiel mentioned he’s bad with people?

Dean seems to relax under the touch though, shifting his weight to accommodate Castiel better, and he considers it a job well done. Dean’s side is incredibly warm pressed against his, and Castiel can feel the steady thrum of his pulse from where his hand rests against Dean’s neck, slung around his shoulder the way it is.

“Will the horse be okay?” Castiel asks suddenly.

“It ran to the finish line. They’re kinda like dogs like that.” Dean scowls, “I just can’t believe those two bitches are going to win. Shoulda been us, Cas.”

Castiel is absolutely not going to think about his lost opportunity to spend a night in the Oasis with Dean, because all it will do is serve to make him angry when he can do nothing about it. He’ll save it for later. “It’s unfortunate. I would have liked to spend the night alone with you.”

From the corner of his eye, Castiel sees Dean lick his lips, feels his body shift once more. They don’t speak again until they reach Gabriel, who is indeed holding on to the lead of their horse.

“Lose something, boys?”

“Yeah, yeah, funny,” Dean says impatiently, not even pretending to play along for the sake of the camera. “Cas is hurt. Where’s the medic?”

Gabriel squints at him. “How was the challenge?”

“ _Gabriel_.”

“We had a nice time,” Cas cuts in. “However, my wrist is very hurt, and I would like to get it looked at now.”

“Your wrist.” Gabriel looks skeptically at the way Cas is being held by Dean before shrugging. Castiel refuses to feel shame for taking the opportunity when Dean offered it. If all he ever gets is this five minutes of being pressed against Dean, he’s going to enjoy it. “Whatever. Medic’s over there,” he waves them off to the side, where indeed a skinny man who looks as if a stiff breeze could knock him over is standing.

Dean brings Castiel over and begins to explain what happened, turning his wrist gently over in his palm and stroking his thumb up and down. Castiel misses most of what he says, enjoying the pleasant tingling shooting up his arm from the contact, when the medic speaks.

“I’m going to have to check it out just to be sure,” he smiles, a slight twang to his voice. “I’m Garth, by the way.”

Dean reluctantly passes over Castiel’s hand to Garth, watching like a hawk. His lips get tight every time Castiel makes a small nose of pain over whatever Garth is doing, and so Castiel tries to keep as quiet as he can, biting his lip to stop himself from making noise.

"All done!” Garth announces cheerfully. “You were right Dean, it’s just a real bad sprain. Don’t over exert it for a couple of days, Castiel, and you’ll be fit as a fiddle soon enough.”

Castiel’s wrist is now wrapped tightly in a long bandage, the white contrasting starkly against his skin.

Dean claps Garth on the shoulder. “Thanks man, I really appreciate it.” He offers Castiel his shoulder again, but he shakes his head.

“I can walk by myself, thank you Dean.”

A flicker of disappointment flashes across Dean’s face, so fast Castiel thinks he may have imagined it, and he relents, “I do need your help taking this damn helmet off though.”

“Damn helmet probably saved your life,” Dean counters as he gently undoes the buckle under his chin and lifts it off his head.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like how it looks,” Castiel scowls, and Dean grins stupidly at him.

“What?”

“You’ve got that scowl and your hair is all sticking up,” he says, still grinning. “You look like a grumpy cockatoo.”

Cas flips him the bird and Dean gives a laugh, a sound Castiel doesn’t believe he’ll ever grow tired of. “Come on grumpy pants. Let’s get you back to the cabin.”

***

Charlie catches them at dinner and drags them back to her cabin with Gilda. Dean loudly protests being taken from the food, but Charlie says she and Gilda brought burgers back with them, so he figures he’ll live. She’d also made the appropriate sympathetic noises over Cas’ wrist, which Dean appreciated.

As they walk back to Charlie’s cabin, Cas’ hand brushes against Dean’s several times, like he wants to hold it but isn’t sure how to ask. This confuses the hell out of Dean. Cas has been finding subtle ways to touch him since that afternoon, which is weird. Cas does not seem like a touchy feely guy. He doesn’t want to mention it though, because he’s pretty sure that would make Cas stop. He likes the touches, of being reminded that another person wants his awareness, wants to know he exists. Instead he lets Cas do whatever he’s doing without comment and hopes maybe the guy will finally get up the courage to do whatever it is he’s trying to do.

“What do you think happened to the horse anyway?” Charlie is asking, and Dean immediately feels his good mood evaporate.

“Something must’ve spooked her,” he reveals. “I should’ve been able to hold her though. Wasn’t paying attention.”

"That is patently ridiculous,” Castiel says firmly from beside him. “I told you you couldn’t have held that horse Dean. If it’s your fault for letting her go, it is just as much my fault for not being cautious.”

“You’ve never ridden a horse before,” Dean points out, “I spent a whole year when I was nine stuck on a ranch, which means it was my responsibility—“

“Besides which,” Castiel says loudly over him, “I’m fairly certain the horse did not enjoy having Meg and Ruby right behind her.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “You think they did something?”

Dean can only stare at Cas. If Meg did something that ended up hurting Cas…

He shrugs. “I don’t know, but it all seems a bit too coincidental.”

“It’s still my fault for provoking Meg, then.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel’s eyes are fierce, a look on his face like he’d smite the stupid right out of Dean if he could. “I also provoked her. Please stop trying to blame yourself.”

Dean shuts his mouth, but he’s still got the feeling he failed Castiel, and every time he sees his wrapped up wrist he gets an ugly twist in his gut. He could have been hurt way, way worse, and that would have been Dean’s fault too, for screwing up.

“Why are we going back to your cabin Charlie?” Dean asks, trying to take his mind off of it.

“Because Cas,” she says dramatically, wiggling her fingers for emphasis, “has never seen Star Trek.”

“What?” Dean sends Cas a horrified look and finds he doesn’t even look a little ashamed. “How do you avoid that?”

“By not wasting my life in front of the TV,” Cas says, raising an eyebrow.

“Star Trek isn’t a waste!”

“Woah boy, calm down.” Charlie opens the door to her cabin and ushers them inside. “We’ll fix this problem ASAP.”

The last time Dean was in this room it looked like every other cabin he’d been in. Now though, there was a small but intricate set up of screens and wires on the chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, making it look like some den of geekdom. Gilda was again lying on the bed, although this time, thankfully, she was clothed.

“Where the hell did you get all this?” Dean asks as Castiel bends down to inspect everything. The thought of Cas being at all good with technology makes Dean laugh, but who knows. The guy could have hidden talents.

“It’s mine,” Charlie answers proudly. “They confiscated it at first, but Gilda made friends with some crew member named Gavin and he gave it all back right away.”

“This show is incredibly lax on rules,” Castiel murmurs from his spot down by the floor. Dean agrees, but he can’t really complain when those lax rules allow him to do shit like watch Star Trek.

“Maybe it’s not the show, maybe Gilda’s just magic,” he suggests.

“That’s right, I’m a fairy who can grant your every wish,” Gilda laughs, sitting up on the bed and patting the space next to her. “Come here Charlie. Those two losers can have the floor.”

“Hey, Cas is the one who hasn’t seen this damn movie, not me,” Dean protests, settling down next to him.

“You’re a loser by association,” Charlie amends. “Now shut up. I’m turning it on.”

Dean does eventually shut up, but not until Charlie’s passed him the burger she promised him, and not until he’s finished complaining about showing the newer version Star Trek, since obviously Castiel is going to be ruined by not seeing the classics first.

He will never admit it if anyone asks, but he doesn’t think he catches one second of the movie. He‘s way too preoccupied with watching Cas. For someone who doesn’t show a lot of emotion, Cas really does have the best reactions, not because they’re obvious, but because they’re so subtle and fit so well. He lets out a soft huff when Spock appears, gasps in all the right places, and looks properly put upon whenever Kirk is particularly hard headed, exactly like Dean thought he would look.

Was this what love felt like? Because Dean is pretty sure he’s probably a little bit in love with Cas’ dumb reactions.

“So?” he demands the second the movie is off.

Castiel tilts his head a little. “It poses an interesting debate between following heart and following duty. Most of what Kirk does is because he decides it’s what needs to be done, and consequently he ends up going against the orders of his betters. Spock is there to counterbalance this. He introduces logic to Kirk’s emotion, and vice versa. It is a common set of roles played out in a rather unique way.”

“So it’s badass,” Dean concludes.

“Yes,” he smiles slightly. “I approve of your comparison, Charlie.”

“I called him Spock,” Charlie tells Dean before he can ask, and Dean grins.

“Oh yeah, totally,” he nods, noticing what Charlie’s holding for the first time. “Is that a joint? Where the fuck did you get that?”

“I rolled it,” she replies, giving him a ‘duh’ look. “Do you want some?”

“Hell yeah,” he snorts. He hasn’t had a joint since his stint in jail. Actually maybe he should rethink this a little. “Wait, cameras.”

“Please,” Charlie laughs. “It’s fine. We’re in Costa Rica, they could not care less here. Everyone’s high. And maybe this will get us some privacy. Not like they’ll wanna show us smoking on American TV.”

Charlie lights the joint and takes a long drag before passing it off to Gilda, who in turn passes it on to Dean. He’s about to give it back when he sees Castiel making a grab for it, a disapproving look on his face. “Hey, don’t judge.”

“Dean, I’d like some,” he says in frustration.

Of course he does. At this point Dean is struggling to find something wrong with the guy. He passes the joint over and Cas takes it like a pro.

“You do that often?”

“I’m an artist,” is his answer, accompanied with an exasperated look.

Fifteen minutes later they joint is burned out and Dean is feeling pleasantly buzzed, although he’s nowhere near light headed and floaty enough to call himself stoned yet. Charlie’s busying herself rolling out another joint, and Cas is staring at Charlie’s mess of electronics with a kind of blessed outlook on his face. Dean follows his gaze just for the hell of it.

“Dude, is that a GameCube?”

***

Castiel cannot understand how he can be so bad at a child’s game.

“Blue shell!” Dean crows gleefully, and for some reason Castiel doesn’t understand Charlie groans. His little man in the green hat is not moving, and the mushroom on the back of the cart is not helping either. _Why isn’t he moving_?

“Press A, Cas,” Dean tells him, reaching over and tapping the large green button on Cas’ controller.

The cart moves and Castiel automatically jams down on the button, finger brushing against Dean’s in the process. If he thought touching Dean was enjoyable before, it’s nothing like it is now, with his senses heightened and erratic. Making contact with Dean is like touching a lightning bolt at this point, and it’s all Castiel can do to stop himself from pressing their lips together to see if the feeling applies there as well.

Unfortunately, his little green man and mushroom have gone straight off the road. He thinks everyone has lapped him at least once while he sits here and tries to figure out the controls.

“At least we found something you’re bad at,” Dean snickers from beside him, and Castiel gives a frustrated grunt.

“I am severely, severely injured,” Cas says slowly, waving his wrist a little. “I doubt this counts.”

Behind him Charlie and Gilda are talking about the very real existence of a place called Mordor, Charlie giving an incredibly elaborate description of a program she’s created to scan all government documents of any mention or variation of the name.

Castiel falls off the road again. Dean had called it Rainbow Road, and it is hurting his eyes very badly. Gilda said it was pretty, but Castiel thinks it’s obnoxious.

“The road would be better if it was the color of your eyes,” he tells Dean.

Dean glances at him, the lazy push of his finger on the stick of his controller sliding back until his cart on screen comes to a stop. “You—yours too,” he says, furrowing his brow like he’s thinking very hard. “Your eyes are kinda like…like where the sky meets the sunrise, you know?”

"You won!” Gilda says in surprise, and Castiel looks at the screen to see that Charlie’s characters are celebrating first place.

“Haha, suck it nerds,” Charlie grins, tossing her controller onto the bed. Gilda must take this as a signal, because she drops hers as well and crawls into Charlie’s lap.

"Get a room, ladies,” Dean pouts. “It’s not nice to have sex in front of two not having sex people.”

“Then go have sex,” Charlie manages to sigh before Gilda is flush against her, covering Charlie’s lips with her own.

“I want to show you your eyes,” Castiel says abruptly, and he stands from his spot on the floor, not waiting to see if Dean is following him when he walks out into the warm, muggy night.

Charlie and Gilda’s cabin straddles the edge of the trees and the pavilion, perfect for finding all kinds of green. Unfortunately, Castiel has forgotten it was dark out.

“S’dark out Cas,” Dean’s voice comes from behind him. Dean is really smart. Castiel doesn’t know why he lets everyone tell him he’s dumb, because he is just very, very, smart.

“It gets dark at night,” he murmurs, and Dean makes a noise of agreement. “Let’s wait until the light comes back,” he says decisively, stepping off the porch and heading for the pool area. He plops down in one of the deck chairs, and Dean sits in the one next to him, turning so he’s sitting cross legged and facing Castiel.

Castiel is not paying attention to him. “Look at the stars.”

Dean follows Castiel’s example and tilts his head back. “Woah,” he says softly. “Hey mom.”

Castiel never sees stars in the city, only smog and blank blackness, so he almost misses what Dean says. “Mom?”

“Yeah. She’s dead, so she’s one of them now,” Dean replies, voice so guileless Castiel has to rip his gaze away from the sky to look at him. Dean’s face is lifted up to the sky, the light of the moon bathing him in silver. “You ever think how, there are a lot of people in this world, and some of them, you know, are similar, but some you can have an’ some you can’t?”

“Maybe,” Castiel sounds out slowly, the word sounding strange on his tongue. “Explain.”

Dean finally looks away from the stars to Castiel. “Like, my mom was Mary,” he explains. “But dad got the most of her. I got a little, and Sammy barely got any, but she was ours, you know? So, why did dad get a lot and Sammy only got a little? Is Sam gonna get any of a Mary?”He pauses, chewing on his lip. “I had a Cassie, but then she left, and now I got a Cas. Is it the same thing?” There’s a note to desperation in his voice, his eyes almost pleading. “Am I allowed to have you, Cas?”

“Yes,” he says promptly, because in this moment, with that look on Dean’s face, he would have agreed to anything.

Dean only looks back at the stars, so Castiel asks carefully. “Where did Cassie go?”

“Left,” he answers morosely. “Lots of people leave, Cas. I’m bad at the I love you’s.”

“I’ve heard that if it’s too hard to say, you may show it in other ways,” Castiel says, drawing on some long ago memory from when he was young and naïve and thought maybe his father just showed affection differently than most people.

“I do,” Dean says, sounding frustrated. “No one gets it.”

“How do you say it?” Castiel asks, more out of curiosity and not really expecting Dean to answer.

But Dean looks at him askance, standing and dragging his chair so it’s right up against the edge of Castiel’s. They are lounge chairs with no arm rests, and so Dean sits cross legged facing Castiel again, nothing separating them.

“Like…” he pauses a moment, stretching out a hand to cup Cas’ cheek, sweeping his thumb lightly down his cheekbone before taking his chin in his hand and slowly tracing the same thumb over the seam of Cas’ lips, fascination lighting his eyes. “You know,” he says quietly, “like that.”

Castiel keeps absolutely still during the whole process in order to keep Dean touching him as long as possible, but his thumb continues to idly trace his lips, so Castiel whispers, “but sometimes it is nice to hear it, too.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, drawing back. A flare of disappointment shoots through Castiel. “My dad never said it. Think he used ‘em all on my mom.”

“My father as well,” Castiel looks at the pool. “In fact, he spent most of his life convincing me not even God loved me.”

The chair next to him is silent for a moment. “Sounds like your dad was some dick, Cas.”

“Yours as well.”

“No,” Dean says bitterly. “M’not a good guy, Cas. Did some shit when I was younger. I deserve e’rything.”

Today has taught Castiel a lot of things, the most prominent of which is that everyone worthwhile seems to love Dean Winchester but Dean himself. Castiel knows it probably seems a bit extreme that in that moment his biggest goal in life is to eradicate Dean of this misapprehension, but he could care less. Dean saved people from snake pits and talked to horses and had a smile that could charm a spinster, he was the last person in the world who deserved self-loathing.

“I don’t know what you did, Dean, but I don’t believe that’s true.”

“I’ll tell you, Cas, I stole shit,” he declares bluntly. “Stole shit and didn’t care. I was like a badass Robin Hood but without the morality and the tights.”

Dean looks at Cas expectantly, waiting for something. Probably for him to get up and leave. Castiel refuses to do so. Instead he lies back in his chair. Dean hesitates a moment before doing the same.

“You and your mother looked at the stars when you were young,” he ventures, knowing he’s right.

“Yeah,” he answers hoarsely. “I was only four when she died, but I remember.”

“Do you know their names?”

Castiel falls asleep to the soft murmuring of Dean’s voice and the constant lapping of water against pool walls.

***

Dean was usually of the opinion that whatever challenges the show forced them to do were dumb and pointless, but this one seemed more so than most. Probably because he had been separated from Cas, which seemed to defeat the purpose.

Wandering around the jungle trying to find Cas was not his idea of a good time.

As he's staring at a particular looking tree, trying to figure out if he’d passed it before and if he had gone right or left, there's a constant nagging at the back of his brain, like something isn’t quite right here.

The thought disappears from his head as something warm and heavy slams into his back, pushing him stumbling down a shallow hill in a tangle of limbs.

“Cas,” he breathes out before he’s even twisted himself all the way over, and sure enough, deep blue eyes meet his in a familiar piercing gaze.

“Hello Dean,” Cas answers, voice a deep, dark growl, and Dean truly hopes Cas can’t feel the embarrassingly hard erection Dean’s sporting and is currently pressing against his leg.

Apparently Cas can feel it though, because he smirks openly at Dean, gyrating his hips a little and leaning close. “Are you happy to see me?” he breathes, warm breath puffing against Dean’s lips.

“Cas—” Dean gets out, voice half strangled, but Cas doesn’t want to talk, threading a hand through Dean’s hair and licking into his mouth with the same intensity he applied to everything else.

Dean whimpers a little, hips shooting forward in a desperate attempt to grind into Cas. He feels strange, more frantic than usual, much more turned on than he should be at this point.

Cas evades him, pulling back. “Dean.”

“Cas, come on,” he says, trying to press closer, but Cas doesn’t seem to be with the program anymore.

“Dean. Dean. _Dean.”_

Dean jerks awake to bright light and a giant shape in shadow standing in front of him and blocking the sun.

"Jesus Sam,” he groans. “What time is it?”

"Ten,” Sam replies, shifting so Dean can now see his face. The downside being that now the sun is shining straight into his eyes. He squints and just makes out Sam’s amused look. “Good night?”

“What?” Dean asks. His mouth feels way too dry, he’s got an uncomfortable erection, there’s a weight on his shoulder, and something warm and heavy is pressed against his left side. Twisting his head a little, he is just able to make out Cas’ sleeping form on his stomach and – for lack of a better word, although Dean refuses to think too hard about it – cuddled against him, hand flat against Dean’s left shoulder in a tight grip.

Which actually, now that Dean’s paying attention to it, hurts. A fucking lot.

“We were just talkin’,” he said, considering how to get Cas off his shoulder and figure out why it hurt so badly without losing his touch. It was a conundrum.

“Dude,” Sam winces, making a face. “You fell asleep out here? You’re sunburned as hell.”

Dean’s figured out this is what’s going on with his shoulder at this point, and he makes a face at Sam. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Sighing reluctantly, he peels Castiel’s hand off his shoulder, and Sam lets out a huge bark of laughter only someone of his sasquatch size could achieve.

“Awwww, look at that!”

“Shut it Sammy.” Dean’s been plagued with fair skin all his life, but this just about takes the cake. While Cas looks like he’s gotten through the morning relatively unharmed, Dean’s left shoulder, which the sun has been beating on for going on five hours now, is bright red. The consequences of Cas’ hand laying on it for just as long means there is a white hand print marked perfectly into his skin.

What had they been doing last night? He recalls vague snatches of conversation, of looking at stars, of…

Fuck.

He told Cas he was a thief. There was a camera there, in a few months he’ll have told the whole damn world he was a thief.

He was so fucking stupid.

“Son of a _bitch._ ”

“I came to wake you because breakfast is almost over,” Sam tells him, ignoring Dean’s obvious internal struggle and still grinning stupidly at the damn handprint. “But if you want to skip food for your snuggling session…”

“I’m getting up,” Dean says quickly, lifting himself onto his forearms and wincing at the pull and burn of his shoulder. “I’ll wake up Cas.”

“Take your time man,” Sammy practically sing-songs before moving away. Dean swears he’s even sauntering a little.

What a girl.

***

Sam’s happy for Dean. He really is. If he ever gets his head out of his ass, he may even get a relationship out of this deal after all. Sure, it’s not exactly what Sam had in mind, but as long as his brother’s okay, that’s all that matters.

Yet despite his happiness, after seeing Dean and Cas sleeping together in those lounge chairs like that, he can’t help thinking about what Luke said. About how Dean’s going to move on and leave Sam all alone. How maybe Dean will even end up loving Cas more than him, and will leave Sam behind as he creates a family all his own.

Sam doesn’t miss the irony in trying to push his brother into his own life and then regretting it the second it actually happens.

“Did you find your brother?”

Sam looks up from where he’s definitely not brooding at a table by the breakfast food. Luke is standing way too close, an interested expression on his face.

“Yeah,” Sam says shortly, squinting at him. Luke has given him no reason to like him. In fact, he’s done just the opposite. And yet…

“Why did you sleep with Meg?” he blurts out. He should probably be horrified at the realization that he does actually care what Luke does, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment.

Luke’s expression doesn’t change. “Do you care?”

“I just asked you, didn’t I?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said mildly. “I did it so you would ask me why.”

Sam pulls a face at him. He wonders if Luke gets off on giving half-assed answers. “Ask you what?”

“Why I slept with her.”

“Why the hell would you want me to do that?”

He shrugged. “I figured it was the best course of action.”

“For _what_?” Sam cries in frustration. He doesn’t miss how much closer Luke had gotten over the course of the conversation, looming over Sam in a way that’s completely unfamiliar to him.

Luke grins a feral grin, his eyes bright. “For this,” he answers simply, pushing forward the extra few inches to press his lips to Sam’s.

Sam makes a noise of surprise, the awkward position making it hard to really move anywhere. He automatically kisses back as Luke shifts impossibly closer however, his groin pressed into Sam’s side.

Finally Luke pulls away, his normally stoic face slightly flushed. “Understand?” he asks, a little breathless as he raises an eyebrow.

Sam seems to be having trouble getting air himself as he nods quickly. He realizes jealousy is what he was feeling, and he’s a little pissed Luke managed to manipulate him just to kiss him, but…it’s kind of hard to think right now. He wants to kiss Luke again. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Yeah, I got it.”

***

These ceremonies are truly beginning to grow tedious. Of the seven couples remaining, Castiel believes only one of them would want to attempt to switch, and that is only because Victor and Lisa are in last place. Since he spent the night with Dean, Charlie and Gilda, he has no idea whether either of them attempted to sway anyone to the idea of choosing them as a partner.

“So boring,” Dean breathes next to him, voicing his thoughts. Castiel glances side eyed at Dean. Although he is wearing a long sleeved button down shirt, Castiel knows exactly what is on his shoulder, and it pleases him in a way he can’t describe.

When Dean had woken him that morning and jokingly asked if he was into domination role play, Castiel hadn’t understood what he’d meant. Then Dean had showed him his arm, with a perfect replica of his splayed hand etched into Dean’s skin, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry.

“Everyone’s probably banging by now anyway,” Dean is still saying quietly. “We know Charlie and Gilda are.”

“It’s part of the show Dean.”

“Seems stupid at this point, is all I’m saying.”

Castiel quietly agrees, but shushes him so they can watch Meg and Ruby choose to stay together. What’s most amazing is that Gabriel seems to have decided he doesn’t like the couple either, and does nothing to tone down his disdain or catty remarks, despite the constant interjections from Jody and Meg’s death glare.

“Alrighty Dean-a-rean-o, Casmas Tree, c’mon down.”

Castiel has no idea why Gabriel has decided to butcher their names every time he says them, but by this point he’s learned to ignore it.

“So,” Gabriel grins at them, waggles his eyebrows, and Castiel knows exactly what’s coming. “You two got a little close last night, didn’t you?”

“We fell asleep next to one another,” Castiel agrees, lifting an eyebrow in return.

“And you cuddled. Deano’s got that nice brand on his arm to prove it.”

Castiel feels Dean shift uncomfortably next to him, and Castiel says evenly, “I would like to choose Dean as my partner for the next round.”

“’Course you would bucko,” Gabriel smirks, looking at Dean. “Do I even have to ask?”

"Yeah. I want Cas,” Dean says gruffly. Castiel knows the words are arbitrary, Dean trying to get away from the spotlight as fast as possible, but he still feels a slight thrill at hearing them.

He’s in so much trouble.

The rest of the ceremony proceeds exactly as Castiel predicted. Every other couple chose to stay with the partner they’d had in the previous round, leaving Lisa and Victor as the last two standing.

“Sorry guys,” Gabriel begins, “but looks like you two aren’t finding love in the wild.”

Castiel doesn’t know Victor or Lisa very well, so he is not surprised that neither pay attention to him when they say their goodbyes. Lisa, however, comes over and gives Dean a quick hug, murmuring something in his ear before letting him go.

“Wrap!” Bobby calls, which is their cue to go and to head back to the cabins.

Castiel turns to Dean, cocking his head curiously at him. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” Dean shrugs, but he’s quiet the whole way back to the cabin.


	7. Chapter 6

Castiel watches Dean think hard about it on the way back to the cabin, not once saying a word.

He watches as Dean distractedly putters around the small space, gets ready for bed way too early, and climbs under the covers, still not talking.

An hour later, Castiel gives up on the sketch he’s never really begun working on, following Dean’s lead and climbing under the covers after he’d turned out the light.

Not five minutes later, he hears the, “Cas,” he’s been waiting for, spoken into the darkness.

He waits a beat or two, not wanting to seem over-eager and scare Dean off. “Yes, Dean?”

“About…last night,” Dean says hesitantly, the sound of rustling sheets accompanying his words. Castiel imagines that he’s moving his hands as he speaks. “I shouldn’t have told you what I did.”

There are a lot of things Castiel can see Dean being ashamed of telling him. About his mother, about his father, about his worries for Sam…but he feels the most plausible one Dean is probably acknowledging is his confession to being a thief.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Castiel said quietly. “And we don’t have to talk about it again. But…I’m glad that you told me.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah. Now you got dirt on me.”

Castiel tries to ignore the pang of hurt he feels at the statement. Dean is lashing out because he feels vulnerable, yet Castiel can’t help being upset. Dean sees information about his life as some sort of bargaining chip, something that puts him on unequal ground with Castiel now that he’s given it up. He did not tell Castiel in order to share himself so they could get to know one another better.

“If you like, I can tell you something about my life,” Castiel informs him, voice carefully devoid of any emotion.

Dean’s response is immediate, a knee-jerk reaction. “Yeah. I mean, if you want.”

Pointless, he thinks. It doesn’t even matter what he tells Dean. The man only wants to hear something about Castiel to feel better about what he himself said. He doesn’t want to get to know Castiel. Who would?

"I never had a mother,” he tells him blandly. “I don’t know who she was, or if she ever existed. Perhaps I was created in a test tube. My father never mentioned her, and I was never allowed to ask.”

“Geez, Cas,” Dean breathes.

“Yes.”

“I’m…that sucks. I’m sorry, man.”

“Thank you.” Castiel rolls onto his side, putting his back to Dean and closing his eyes.

“He—hey,” suddenly a hand is tugging at his shoulder, flipping him back over. Dean looms over him in the darkness, eyes somehow still bright despite the lack of light. The only thing lighter is the subtle red blink of the small camera mounted into the wall behind him. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” he responds tartly. “Sleep?”

The hand leaves his shoulder to run through Dean’s hair in apparent frustration, and he frowns. “Don’t be like that,” he says quietly. “This isn’t like…like some trade of information Cas. Not an ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ kinda thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Dean leans closer, their noses now almost brushing. He’s speaking lowly, so lowly Castiel doubts the camera can really pick up what he’s saying, which he’s sure is the point. “I don’t say shit I don’t want to say, Cas. I may have been high last night, but some dumb ass part of my brain wanted you to know I ran around as a kid cheating rich snobby guys outta their old lady’s inheritance. It’s not something I shoulda told you, and Sam’ll be all over me when he finds out, but I did.”

“And I told you about my mother. So now we’re even.”

A noise of annoyance emits from the back of Dean’s throat. “That’s not what this is,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re interesting as shit Cas. Friends are ‘sposed to know stuff about each other, right? Hell, you can never tell me anything again, but I’m sure I’ll keep telling you dumb stories about nine year old Sammy an’ stuff because I want you to know. That’s friends, right? Telling each other stupid shit?”

If that’s Dean’s definition of friends, Castiel is fairly certain they’ve surpassed that stage and are somewhere in a realm beyond, since the majority of their conversations so far have featured much heavier topics than the ‘stupid shit’ Dean keeps mentioning. Furthermore, Castiel is fairly certain friends don’t hold conversations like this, with one on top of the other. He is incredibly certain that if he were Dean’s friend, he would not be fighting an erection because of it.

“Prove it,” he says, and he does not mean for his voice to come out in such a growl, but seriously. He’s getting antsy.

Dean shifts a little, but otherwise has no reaction, and Castiel internally sighs at yet more proof that sex is seeming more and more like something that’s not going to happen. He supposes though, that if he had to trade moments like this, with talk and touch, for what would undoubtedly be a rough and filthy marathon session of sex that was never repeated again, then he’d rather have the talking. Different from how he would feel normally, although Dean’s body pressed up against his certainly wasn’t putting any ticks in the, ‘Pro-Talking’ column.

“Prove it?”

“Tell me something stupid,” Castiel replies, and Dean stops hovering over him, rolling back to his side of the bed and no longer touching Castiel.

“Uh,” Dean’s quiet for a long moment. He seems to be struggling, as if now that he thinks about it, there’s nothing he really does want to tell Castiel. Which disappointingly, only proves his point. “Stop that Cas,” he says firmly, as if he knows exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m sortin’ through my memories. Be patient.”

Castiel rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t say anything, and finally Dean makes a small noise of satisfaction. “Alright,” he says. “This one’s good. Here’s a story for ya Cas – when I was sixteen, I killed my first werewolf.”

“Is that supposed to be slang for something?”

“No,” Dean answers defensively. “Well, it may be an over exaggeration.”

“You don’t say.” Castiel feels his lips twitch. “Under what circumstances did you kill a werewolf?”

“When I was sixteen, Sammy was twelve. We were living in…New York, I think? Yeah, definitely New York for Halloween, and since Sam was a whole twelve years old he was pretty adamant that he could go trick or treating without me. Felt bad for the kid too, you know, on account of how much he needed some normalcy and I sucked at giving it to him, so I let him go with a group of kids.”

Sam’s—Sam’s got this dumb thing with clowns,” Castiel can practically feel Dean smiling here. “He really hates ‘em. But the people he was trick or treating with, well, there was a real pretty girl in the group, and I think Sam was determined to look cool in front of her no matter how many psycho clowns were out that night. Anyway, I got a call from him around midnight. He and the girl had split off from the rest of the group, and some asshole in a clown costume had started harassing ‘em. Sammy took care of him.” There’s a distinct note of pride in Dean’s voice. Castiel has no doubt that Dean is the one that taught Sam how to take care of himself in such a situation, whether or not he’ll take credit for it.

“Anyways, he only called for a ride, but when I got there, I guess Bozo must’ve had the same idea as Sam, ‘cept he didn’t know to quit, because when I showed up Bozo was holding on to the girl and Sam was ducking punches being thrown by this giant guy in a werewolf mask. Sam used to be a real pip squeak, you know, before the government got a hold of him for their experiments. It wasn’t a fair fight at all.”

“So you beat up the werewolf instead,” Castiel summarizes. Somehow he’s not surprised in the least.

“Well ‘course I did,” Dean says smugly. “I beat his ass too. Then I took the girl and Sam home.”

“And did Sam appreciate what you did for him?”

“Little shit better, he got his first kiss that night.”

Castiel realizes, suddenly, that though Dean has technically told a story about himself, the main subject is Sam. It is more a defining moment of Sam’s life than Dean’s, and all it really tells him about Dean is how utterly devoted he is to his brother. He wonders if Dean did it on purpose as another deflection technique, or if he really has nothing to tell he feels worthwhile that has only to do with himself, that reveals his own character.

Somehow, Castiel fears it is the latter.

“You realize now that I know you kill werewolves I am going to expect much more out of you in challenges, correct?”

“Sure thing Cas,” Dean says, and suddenly the mattress is dipping as Dean sits up. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he says, jerking a thumb towards the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Castiel watches the door close before he lies back down, staring up at the ceiling. Dean doesn’t rejoin him in bed before he’s fallen asleep, a whole two hours later.

***

As he stares in the bathroom mirror, Dean considers that he could have told Cas a better story.

Truth was, he’d panicked a little. Lisa had told him good luck with Cas before she’d left, and that freaked him out. He didn’t want any good luck with Cas, if anything Cas needed good luck hanging around him. Dean had a talent for ruining everything around him. But then he really had started to ruin it, made Cas mad at him, and that had freaked him out even more. Because when he thought about, having Cas in his life was pretty awesome. He really meant what he had said to Cas, and had wanted him to know he didn’t _owe_ Dean for anything. But the guy had put him on the spot, and the few appropriate memories Dean had were really nothing to sneeze at.

Yeah, he remembers the satisfaction of beating the stupid werewolf’s face in. How Sam had looked at him like he was fucking Superman or something, how he’d earnestly thanked Dean, eyes shining, after he’d stayed outside the apartment door a little longer with his girlfriend, beaming brightly that he’d gotten his first kiss.

But Dean also remembers how John had come home drunk that night. How he’d seen Sammy’s black eye and hit Dean, called him a failure and a shit excuse for a son before stumbling off to sleep on the couch. How Sam had cried and sworn he was going to leave and never come back.

He didn’t tell Cas that part.

Dean realizes he’s probably been staring at himself in the mirror for an amount of time that could arguably be considered emo, so he looks away. He doesn’t want to go back to Cas, because Cas might ask what was wrong, or worse yet, Cas might not ask at all, and instead just lie next to him in bed in soft and solid comfort. And then Dean would fucking tell him even though he never asked, and he can’t do that.

So he turns the shower on and slips out of his pants.

There are two go-to’s when Dean’s in a mood like this. There’s booze and there’s sex. For some reason or another, the no booze rule is the only thing this game show actually enforces. Dean hasn’t seen a drop since the plane landed in Costa Rica. Which leaves only one coping mechanism open to him. The lack of people on this show willing to have sex with him only means his right hand will actually be earning its keep for once.

As he steps into the warm spray of the shower, he carefully promises himself he’s not gonna think about Cas. At all.

Except Cas is his most readily available Spank Bank material. But, he reasons, as long as he thinks of someone else in place of Cas, it should be alright.

Dean strokes a hand lightly down his stomach, his fingers grazing his dick but not touching it, not yet. He’s always liked teasing, always refuses to touch himself until he’s at least partly erect.

So he’ll need a girl, first of all. One with soft curves and plush lips and, uh…blonde hair. Straight. The opposite of rich brown hair that curls around ears and at the nape of a neck and…

Dean doesn’t know whether it’s his brain or his dick talking, but he tells them both to shut up.

So he and this girl, they’ll be in bed. A sudden image of him looming over Cas, bracketing him with his arms, Cas glaring at him in indignation and displeasure comes to mind. Fuck. So the bed’s a no go.

It can be a blow job then, the girl kneeling in front of him, head bowed as she takes the tip of him into her mouth.

Dean imagines her hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he strokes, and he’s fully hard now, forearm braced against the wall to stop himself from getting too rough, stopping this from being over too quickly.

She swallows him down in one smooth movement, and Dean lets out a soft swear as he grips harder, reveling in the heat and the slickness. She’s stroking now, coaxing him deeper, trying to get him to move, and Dean finally does as he begins fucking into his hand, picking up speed as he goes.

His breathing becomes ragged as he struggles to hold on to the image of the blonde girl, who, while responding enthusiastically, isn’t as into it as Dean’s dick would like her to be.

“Damn it,” he grunts, movements slowing as he continues to fuck roughly into his hand, hips stuttering in their interrupted rhythm. He needs that kick, the push over the edge…

He picks up speed again, water and precome mixing to create a slick surface his hand is flying over, the friction nearly driving him insane. Blondie is still going to town, little gasps and groans admitting from her that normally Dean would go nuts for. He pushes harder, faster, muttering, “ _come on_ ,” as he goes.

The girl in his mind looks up at this, her eyes wide and darkened with pleasure. They are familiar, a startlingly bright and intense shade of blue.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean chokes out, and in two more strokes he’s spilling onto his hand, cum dripping down onto the shower floor and swirling down the drain.

As he’s leaning heavily against the wall, still lazily stroking his now flaccid cock, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

***

Cas says nothing when he wakes up and finds Dean asleep on the floor, just throws on a pair of track pants and a hoodie and shuffles outside. There’s coffee outside. Coffee that will hopefully distract him from the whole ‘Dean sleeping on the floor’ thing.

Luckily there are a few other people up and about in the breakfast area, so it must not be that early. Still, Castiel ignores them all, only grunting in response to Charlie’s enthusiastic greeting as he waits for his coffee to finish filling the giant mug he’s picked out.

He feels a presence at his side and tilts his head slightly to find Sam standing next to him.

“Hello Sam.”

“Uh, hey Cas,” he nods. Like Dean, Sam has never called him Castiel, and he wonders if it’s because they’re brothers or because Dean’s nickname has just stuck. Come to think of it, Charlie called him Cas too.

Dean has that kind of influence on people. It’s obvious judging by his story last night that he’s very important to Sam.

Maybe it’s thinking about the story that prompts Castiel to blurt out what he says next. “Dean is very concerned about you.”

“What?” Sam asks, brows pinching in confusion. “He told you that? Why?”

“I can tell. He’s concerned about your relationship with Luke.”

Castiel watches with interest as Sam goes red and pushes a hand through his floppy hair. “Yeah, well, tell him to stay out of my business. You too.”

“I will, but I suggest you hear Dean’s feelings on the matter and take them into consideration,” Castiel advises bluntly. “A man who was willing to beat up a teenager for you at sixteen must care a lot about you, and he deserves your respect.”

Sam is staring at him in a kind of muted disbelief, empty mug waiting for coffee held limply in his hand. “Did Dean – he told you that story?”

“Yes. It was touching.”

“Touching is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

Castiel frowns at him. “I don’t understand.”

“What about tragic? Or hell, unbelievable?” Sam asks, waving the mug around in agitation. “I dunno if I’d exactly call our dad laying into Dean with his fists _touching_ , Cas.”

Castiel has no idea what he’s talking about, and he says as much, trying to ignore the sinking feeling deep in his gut.

“Figures,” Sam mutters, finally losing patience and pulling Castiel’s coffee out of the machine. He shoves it at him, putting his own mug in its place. “I bet he’s made dad out to be some kind of saint or something.”

“He seems to think fondly of him,” Castiel tells him, the mug warming his hands to an almost unbearable to degree. “He never said anything about being hit.”

“Well he was,” he said shortly. “Dean was in charge of taking care of me when we were little, because dad, you know, wasn’t around, and when dad did finally stumble home he always had something to say about how Dean had been taking care of me.”

Cas doesn’t ask the stupid questions. He doesn’t ask how Dean can still admire his father after what has been done to him, or why the boys hadn’t left, because he knows the answers. He’s lived them. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he says quietly.

“Don’t apologize to me. Dad never touched me. Dean wouldn’t have let him anyway.” Sam yanks his mug out of the machine and turned to Castiel. “Dean sacrificed everything for me, and I doubt anyone else could have raised me any better than he did.”

“I understand.”

Sam sighs, the indignation draining out of him. “Don’t tell him I told you any of this,” he orders. “I thought he’d already told you.”

“Fine,” Castiel says, giving him a hard look. “Although my original suggestion still remains.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to him about Luke.” The younger man effectively waves Castiel off, hands wrapped around his coffee as he heads off back in the direction of the cabins.

Castiel sits down at a table, his coffee already half gone. Should he feel slighted that Dean hadn’t really told him anything about his past? Probably not. Their friendship is rather new, and Castiel hasn’t told Dean about any of the emotional abuse he was put through as a child. In fact, he should be surprised they’ve been saying any of the things they have at all, since they’ve technically only known one another for about two weeks.

Yet he still feels the same craving he felt last night when Dean was telling his story. He wants to know Dean, wants to know what makes him who he is, and although the things Sam said were terrible, he can’t help hoping that someday Dean actually will want to share with him.

“Chocolate bar for your thoughts?”

A small mini Three Musketeers bar is waved in front of his nose, and Castiel is forced to cross his eyes just to see who is wielding it. “Gabriel?”

Castiel has never seen Gabriel outside of challenges before. He wasn’t sure the man was even on set – he could easily see him being whisked away to some tropical resort during his off time. But here’s Gabriel, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he pulls the chocolate back and regards Castiel. “Hiya, Cassie.”

“What do you want?”

“Ouch. Rude,” Gabriel pouts. “I guess that’s a no on the chocolate then. If you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, all you have to do is say so.”

“I’m confused as to why you’re talking to me,” Castiel tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at Gabriel. “Is this part of the show?”

“Oh yeah,” he whispers, leaning forward. “Any second now a midget’s gonna pull down your pants.”

Despite himself Castiel looks down, and Gabriel lets out bark of laughter. “Relax, bucko. I’m just here to pass out some free advice. And candy. Candy that you so rudely rejected.”

“Advice?” Castiel repeats. “For everybody?”

“Nope.” Gabriel begins unwrapping the chocolate bar. “Only you.”

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

“Is it enough that I like you?” Gabriel returns, raising an eyebrow. “I like Deano too, but don’t tell him. He might lose the constipated look he gets on his face whenever I’m around, and we don’t want America to miss out on that.”

“I’m not sure that is enough.”

“It’s what I got, kid,” he shrugs. “Take it or leave it. Not like you have to follow the excellent advice I’m about to give you.”

Castiel purses his lips. “What is it?”

“Woah, calm down,” Gabriel grins. Castiel knows he must look incredibly annoyed by this point, and he has the feeling Gabriel is reveling in it.

“Gabriel.”

“Alright, alright. Take advantage of the challenge today, capice?”

Castiel waits for more, but Gabriel only stares at him meaningfully, slowly taking a bite of Three Musketeers. “Is that it?”

“It’s good advice, you’ll see,” Gabriel sings, pushing away from the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pick out my underwear. Don’t want to look bad on camera.” Giving Castiel a wink, he saunters off in the direction of the compound a feel miles away.

Castiel pushes his empty coffee mug away and rests his head on the table. It’s too early for this.

***

Dean’s been having a hard time looking at Cas since he woke up this morning.

Look, it’s not like he hasn’t fantasized about real people before. He has, plenty of times. Except usually those people are ones he doesn’t know at all, or ones he’s already having sex with. Cas was kind of this weird, in between thing he had no idea how to deal with. So instead of doing something about it he was walking around like a fucking dog with a tail between its legs, and Cas kept looking at him suspiciously like he was trying to figure out if maybe it was actually Dean who got into the trashcan.

At least it was challenge time, which would hopefully be distracting and would dispel all the awkwardness Dean could currently feel radiating off of him in waves. Cas still seems as oblivious as ever anyway, even with the suspicious looks. At least, he’s still standing within two inches of Dean like he always did.

“Alright guys and gals!” Gabriel, for once, was on time, and Dean wonders what the special occasion is. “Now you must be wondering why you’ve been brought to this unique and exciting location, am I right?”

For the first time, the starting point to the challenge isn’t within a mile or two of the, well, if Charlie was right, the resort, and Dean isn’t sure if that made him nervous or not. Obviously things close to their cabin were tourist areas, so what could they possibly be doing in a place they had to be brought to by car?

Not like he can see much either. They’re in a dense part of the forest, sunlight filtering through in strange patterns and shades ranging from gold to green. Dean really can’t even make out a path, just a small brown sign sticking out of the ground behind Gabriel he’s too far away from to read.

“No need to engage, sheesh,” Gabriel sighs, and Dean guesses that no one was answering the man’s stupid questions. Serves him right for asking them in the first place. “Anybody ever hear of trust falls?”

Fuck no. They were _not_ going to be falling off of cliffs or some shit. Dean absolutely refused.

“Does this have something to do with why we were given helmets?” Sam speaks up, and Gabriel practically beams at him.

“That’s using the ol’ noodle, Sambo! Sure, helmets are important for safety and other things that could potentially lead to lawsuits. Anyway, we were talking about trust falls. It’s important to trust your partner, but it’s also important to be able to stand with them and work with them in close proximity. Because we’re so invested in you munchkins finding love in the wild, we’ve decided to bring these two essential factors together into one amazing challenge.”

Gabriel holds up a short rope, about three feet long, with two clips on either end. “So you guys have all got those helmets and fancy belts. Along the trail there are gonna be six of these ropes, each one shorter than the last, and you have to clip them to each of your belts, so you’re forced to work together. You can’t come off the trail until you’ve got all six.”

Seemed easy enough. It’d give Cas an actual valid excuse to be standing this close to him, at least. Though fuck if Dean knew what the helmets were for still.

“Oh, and just so you know,” Gabriel grins. “You guys are going to be traveling over suspension bridges. Be careful, I hear some of them haven’t been looked at in a while. And no maps, so don’t get lost, because I sure as hell ain’t looking for you. Everyone strap on those helmets!”

Dean stares down at the helmet in his hands. There’s no way he’s going to be able to do this.

Jumping off a cliff is one thing, even if Bela did have to push him. Once he was falling, he was fine. Walking across a bridge three hundred feet above the jungle floor is a different story. The entire time was going to be spent worrying he was going to fall, and this time he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

“Dean?”

Dean looks up to see Cas staring at him in what he could only interpret as concern. “Are you alright?”

Cas looks…really dumb in his helmet. That was the only word Dean would allow himself to think to describe it. With his dark hair sticking out in tufts and the strap dangling below his chin, he just looked really, really dumb. All around them people are putting on their helmets and checking their belts in preparation for Gabriel, who Dean was sure would randomly yell go whenever the fuck he felt like it.

“I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t like heights.” And there’s Sam, sticking his nose in at the most inconvenient time, like he always does.

“Aren’t you supposed to be over there checking Luke’s crotch to make sure his belt is all tightened up?” Dean snaps.

Sam reddens slightly but doesn’t back down. “I just came to check on you. He doesn’t like heights,” he repeats to Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas says solemnly, and he looks completely serious as he nods in thanks to Sam.

“Alright, get the fuck out of here, Samantha,” Dean growls, shoving his helmet aggressively onto his head and strapping it on. “No one needs your soulful eyes, feelings crap, alright? Go provide therapy for someone else.”

Sam makes a face at him but finally leaves to go back to his crazy boyfriend, or whatever the hell it is he and Luke are doing. Cas is still staring at him with that look though. It’s not pity, because Dean doesn’t think Cas could do pity if he tried, but it’s really close. Almost like if a robot was trying to convey sympathy with its facial expression.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“As you wish,” he raises an eyebrow and looks away.

“Dude,” Dean says in disbelief, because no way has a guy who hasn’t seen Star Trek seen The Princess Bride. “Are you quoting at me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cas replies, and fuck if Dean knows if he’s making a joke or not. “I believe Gabriel is about to start the competition.”

Sure enough, Gabriel’s looking antsy from where he’s leaning, arms propped up on the little brown sign Dean could now see read, “Skybridge 1”. He braces himself, and not a second later Gabriel stuffs his fingers in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle. “GO!” he yells, pushing off the sign and out of the way so they can enter into the trees behind him.

Since they’re going to literally be attached at the hip soon enough, Dean tries to stay at least a few feet away from Cas as they crash through the forest. Better to establish his space now so he doesn’t get annoyed about the lack of it later. Cas isn’t getting it though, and he keeps turning to check and make sure Dean is still there, which in turn makes Dean run right into him.

The path isn’t a straight one, and there are a lot of choices between turning right or left or continuing straight on. Eventually Dean and Cas have separated from everyone else, still without coming across a bridge or a tether to attach themselves with.

“You’re not magically avoiding all the suspension bridges on purpose, are you?” Dean asks Cas. “Because we need to cross those to win.”

Cas shoots him a look. “I’m not under the impression that you’re some delicate flower, Dean. You will cross a bridge when we come to one.”

That bridge turns out to be around the next bend of the path, and honestly, Dean has been expecting worse. It’s basically a walkway from one edge of a ledge to another, with a chained railing rising about six feet up.

“Is this it?” Dean scoffs, relief filling his chest. “It’s not even one of those swinging bridges from Indiana Jones, it’s just a fucking suspended path!”

Cas hums in agreement, gently nudging Dean onto the bridge. “Come on then. Do you see a tether?”

Dean spots a row of tethers clipped to the chain link halfway down the bridge and confidently strides forward, grabbing one. It’s about three feet, as long as the one Gabriel showed them, and Dean clips it to the loop at his hip before handing it over to Cas to do the same. “That was easy. How many of these did Gabriel say there were?”

“Six,” Cas says promptly, because he actually listens when Gabriel talks. “I assume that means there are six bridges.”

“Not really a factor anymore though, is it?” Dean sends him a lopsided smile and Cas’ face softens in return. “Careful Cas. If you turned your lips up a tiny bit you’d be smiling back.”

“Walk Dean,” Cas says in exasperation, and he nudges him again. This nudge is considerably closer to Dean’s ass, and he wonders idly what he has to do in order to make Cas go that far.

“You ever had a boyfriend, Cas?”

“A boyfriend?”

Dean knows Cas has got his concentrated confused look on behind him and smirks to himself. “Yeah. Or a girlfriend, I guess.”

"If you define those terms as someone you are in a committed relationship with for a long period of time, then no, I have not had a boyfriend or a girlfriend,” Cas answers, voice dry as the Sahara. “Is there any specific reason that you’re asking?”

Dean steps off the bridge and turns to face Cas, the tether wrapping around his waist and pulling the other man in a little. “Just curious,” he says, grinning. “Any reason for that? You’re not exactly sore on the eyes, Cas.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Keep walking Dean.” Dean sighs and turns forward, letting Cas come up beside him so that their tether dangles between them. “I get all the benefits of a physical relationship with no hassle. What good would calling someone a boyfriend do me?”

Dean nods, because that’s pretty much his opinion on the whole thing. “Sam would try to convince you that relationships are for love and emotions and fulfilling needs and shit.”

“Aren’t they?”

“Well yeah, I guess. Are you saying you don’t need any of those?”

“Are you?” Cas shoots back. “If all your needs and wants are met with sex, then there is no need for a relationship.”

“Right,” Dean says, slightly confused now. “So you’re saying you don’t need a relationship. And neither do I.”

“Yes. Essentially,” Cas frowns in thought. “Though you and I have a friendship that fulfills its own needs.”

“Yeah…” Dean draws out slowly, wondering what Cas is getting at.

“It means we can’t have sex,” Cas explains patiently. “Since sex fulfills one group of needs and our friendship another. If we were to combine them, it’d essentially be a relationship, and neither one of us wants that.”

Well hell, Dean had figured that out last night in the bathroom. If Cas was just getting there now though, he could totally try to convince him otherwise. As long as he knew there was the possibility of a relationship, it’d be easy to avoid, right? “Not necessarily. We’re grown men Cas, I’m sure we can stop being friends for the three hours we spend having sex.”

“Only three?” Cas sighs. “I was hoping you’d last longer.”

“Hey, I can go as long as you want,” Dean winks as they turn down another path, and as he catches sight of the bridge ahead, his stomach drops.

This is more what he had in mind when Gabriel said they were going to be walking suspension bridges.

It’s a rope bridge, wooden slates laid over thick rope. At least the sides are netted, though Dean knows just from looking at it that it will start swaying the second he and Cas step on.

Someone’s breathing really loudly in his ear, like they just ran a marathon, and it takes Dean a couple of seconds to figure out that it’s him.

“Dean? Dean.” Suddenly Cas is in his face, the fronts of their helmets bumping together as he manages to catch Dean’s eyes. “Breathe with me Dean,” he said firmly, resting his helmet against Dean’s and taking a deep breath.

Dean stares at him in panic. What the hell does he mean breathe with him? How is he supposed to match Cas? Cas is going so slow, and fuck, he can still hear his heart pounding in his eardrums and is this a heart attack? Is Dean fucking dying? Wouldn’t it be fucking ironic if the fucking thing that killed him was the _idea_ of something killing him, Sam would have a fucking field day before he fell into an inconsolable depression and cried giant elephant sized tears at the funeral--

Suddenly his hand is being grabbed and Cas brings it to lay flat against his chest. Through his frenzy Dean registers the steady, calm thrum of Castiel’s heart, and his eyes focus on bright blue once again.

“Breathe, Dean,” Cas says with a quiet intensity, like he can will Dean to do it with his mind. Miraculously, this is the thought that gets Dean to actually focus on Cas’ heart. It would suck to prove the power of the guy’s mind wrong after all, he looks like he believes it so damn hard. He breathes in and out, his breaths gradually becoming slower and further apart until he’s in perfect rhythm with Cas.

“We have to cross the bridge,” Castiel enunciates carefully, still looking into Dean’s eyes. “We will only stop to retrieve the tether, and we will not look down. I will always be right behind you, and if you prefer I can talk about anything you like as a distraction. Is that amenable to you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly. “I don’t know why—it’s fine Cas. I got this.”

Truth be told, Dean’s fucking embarrassed he lost it like that in front of Cas. The only other person who’d ever seen him panic like that was Sam, and, well, Sam was Sam. Cas was something totally different that Dean couldn’t put a name to yet, but he certainly wasn’t family, not like Sam.

Cas watches him, and Dean realizes he’s waiting for him to do something. So he reluctantly pulls his hand from Cas’ chest and the steady thrum of his heart, turning away and back to the bridge. The bridge that’s swaying in the wind now.

“Start telling me something,” he orders, taking a step towards the bridge. “Anything. I don’t care what it is.”

Cas walks easily with him, not even causing the tether between them to tug, something Dean appreciates immensely. “This is the kind place my manager, Inias would like me to paint,” he starts, voice calm and steady. “I’m sure he’d be happy if I painted anything at this point, however, since I’ve been wasting my time so far. I believe the camera had only filmed me sketching, and I never show that work.”

"Why aren’t you painting?” Dean asks, stepping carefully onto the bridge and looking straight ahead the second he has his feet situated correctly. He grabs on to the rope railing running along the side of the bridge and stands still, waiting for Cas to get on behind him.

The bridge creaks and sways as Cas puts his weight on it, and although Dean tenses and waits for the tell-tale snap of rope, none comes.

“I don’t really like painting landscapes,” Castiel says from behind him. “Although I’m good enough at it that people pay money. I just haven’t been able to do it lately.”

Dean’s focusing on one tree right at the end of the bridge, watching it come closer and closer. “So paint something else.”

Cas chuckles. “I used to. I used to draw portraits.”

“So do it again.”

“It’s not that simple Dean. It can be very hard for an artist to rebrand himself successfully.”

Cas tugs gently at the tether and Dean immediately stops, waiting as Cas grabs the new tether and clips it to both his own and Dean’s belt. This one must be a few inches shorter, since he feels Cas moving closer.

“So why’d you start painting boring ass landscapes to begin with?”

“I used to draw people as angels,” Cas said shortly. “My father was very religious and disagreed with this….I supposed he would call it blasphemy. Regardless, I allowed his feelings on the matter to pressure me into not doing something I enjoyed. The fact that no one else seemed to enjoy them either certainly contributed.”

Dean steps onto solid ground again and immediately spins around to look at Cas, who looks up in surprise from where he’s been stepping carefully over the bridge. “Why the hell didn’t you tell him where to go shove it?”

“Dean,” he glares. “My father also thought using a God given talent such as drawing to earn money was a sin itself. I paid for my own college degree and managed to ignore him on that point. Considering your own personal history with your father, I don’t think it’s any of your damn business why I allowed him to pressure me on what I drew.”

“Well fuck Cas, if you’re gonna rebel, why not go the whole fucking way?” Dean asks. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing this. Cas is only telling him random shit so he could be distracted while they crossed the bridge, and here Dean is skipping straight past gratitude and right to telling Cas where to go shove it. For some reason, the thought that Cas isn’t happy with his life because of something his father did to him makes him angry. He ignores Cas’ point about dad, because they’re two completely different situations. Completely.

“You don’t know me at all, Dean,” Cas says in quiet anger, jaw clenched. “Don’t pretend to understand my life well enough to tell me where I went wrong.”

It’s a bit pointless to stand here on the path glaring at Cas and having Cas glare back, but Dean allows himself a couple of minutes of it before he looks down at their tethers. The new one is at least half a foot shorter. “Let’s just keep going.”

They manage five minutes of silence before Cas speaks again. “Did you make it across alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Your talking was a good distraction.”

“I thought it might be an even bigger distraction if I managed to make you go all righteous.” Dean turns his head sharply to look at Cas, who has the barest hint of a smirk on his face.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters. “Was that story even true?”

“Yes, but it’s not something I commonly share.”

“It’s not like you gotta spill your life story to get me over a bridge, Cas.”

Cas shrugs. “I wanted to.” He stops, and Dean is forced to stop with him. “Do you think we’re supposed to go through that tunnel?”                   

The path they’re on continues straight, but there’s also a sharp turn to the left they can take that Dean can see leads through a dark tunnel. “Might as well. Sounds better than a bridge.” He tugs teasingly at the tethers, steering Cas onto the new path. “Think there’ll be any monsters in there?”

“What monsters do you know that live in a cave?”

Dean shrugs. “Wendigo?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“They live in caves and eat humans,” Dean wiggles his fingers for emphasis. “Kill ‘em with fire.”

Cas glances at him. “How do you know that?”

“Sammy liked monster stories when we were younger. Kid was weird, he wanted to hear about more than just Frankenstein’s monster and whatever. I could tell you all kinds of shit about random ass creatures.”

“I’ll remember that,” Cas says. Both of them are forced to duck a little to enter the cave, and Dean can tell immediately by the damp coolness and the slight rustling noise that there are bats in here.

“You cool with bats, Cas?”

But Cas is already looking around wonderingly, his eyes scanning the ceiling of the tunnel where tiny black shapes are rustling and emitting small “eek” noises.      

Dean smiles to himself and unclips one of the tethers he sees hanging from the rope running along the side of the tunnel. As opposed to the other two, this one is incredibly short, and will require he and Cas to walk close together and in synch.

“Come here Cas,” he gestures at him, and Cas rips his gaze away from the bats to move obediently closer to Dean. Dean clips the tether to both their belts and grins slightly at Cas, who is now almost nose to nose with him. “Three more to go.”

“Do you like bats?” Cas asks seriously, and yeah, it’s a fucking weird question, but Dean’ll go with it.

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

He tilts his head at him. “Like Batman.”

To say Dean is pleased Cas remembered he likes Batman is a bit of an understatement, but he does the best he can to hide it by saying nonchalantly, “yeah, exactly like Batman.” Cas’ left wrist is still all wrapped up in bandages, so Dean is careful when he tugs at it to get him moving again.

As soon as they exit the tunnel they run into Jo and Benny, who have two tethers of their own. “Hey guys,” Jo says, eyes flicking to Dean’s hand wrapped around Cas’ wrist. “Anything good back there?”

“There are bridges,” Cas informs her. “I assume it’s the same everywhere else.”

Jo makes a face at him and Benny shoots him an annoyed look, turning to Dean. “You doing good, brother?”

“We’re good,” Dean confirms. “There are bats in the tunnel, in case that kind of thing bothers you.”

“Thanks,” Benny salutes, pulling Jo past them and into the tunnel.

“I don’t think Benny likes me very much.”

"I don’t think Benny’s the kind of guy who can appreciate your shitty ass humor, Cas,” Dean laughs.

“Then why do you appreciate it?” Cas demands.

“Cuz I know you’re trying to be funny and I feel bad for your sorry ass.” Cas is pouting a little at this point, so Dean leans closer and whispers, “and I’ve got a shitty ass sense of humor. We’re kind of like a match made in hell, huh?”

They’re able to pass over two more rope bridges without much fuss, the deep and steady sound of Castiel’s voice chattering aimlessly distracting Dean enough that he’s able to cross without panicking. Cas talks about everything from the importance of bees in an ecosystem to surprising the hell out of Dean with his ability to hold a short conversation about baseball. He explains it’s because Inias is a fan and he is forced to watch games every once in a while, but Dean doubts he’s really that indifferent when he’s able to get him to rant about how much the Yankees suck.

Both of the tethers they grab force them closer together, until they’re practically attached at the hip. Their hands keep bumping as they walk, and Dean, finally tired of hearing Cas apologize about it, laces their fingers together.

“S’easier,” he explains, and Cas doesn’t object.

They see Sam and Luke from a distance, though Dean doesn’t call out to his brother because he knows he’ll only want to fuss over how Dean is doing. Other than that, they don’t run into any of the other groups. One of Cas’ talents is apparently creating a map from memory in his head, because he seems to know exactly where they are and exactly where they should be going.

He draws Dean down a path lined with flowered bushes, and that’s when they hit the last bridge.

Like the last five, this one is a swinging rope bridge made up of wooden slates. Unlike the others, there is no netted side, with just a rope strung across to create a railing, the slates have at least two inches of space between them, and Dean swears of those he can see at least half of them are ready to fall.

“Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas responds calmly at his side. His hand is a warm reassuring weight in Dean’s own. “Some of the others have already gone over this bridge.”

“So it’s even more ready to drop us to our deaths!”

“Think rationally Dean. The bridge’s job is to get us to the other side. It wants to drop us even less than we want to be dropped.”

“The bridge isn’t alive Cas,” Dean says frantically, wondering if Cas has finally lost it. “It’s gonna collapse whether it wants to or not!”

“I suggest we move quickly then.” Cas walks forward to the edge of the bridge, staring a hole in Dean’s head until finally, he puts a foot onto the first slate.

It creaks.

“Jesus Christ, _Cas_ —“

Suddenly there’s a warm weight at his back, and Dean realizes Cas is pressed up against him, groin to his ass. “I’ve got you Dean,” Cas says, breath blowing softly into his ear as he breathes. “I won’t let you fall.”

Dean takes another careful step forward and feels Cas move with him. He hears Cas say something to the cameraman behind them, hopefully telling him to stay the fuck back until they’re across the bridge. Dean is too focused on moving though, the only things registering in his mind the feeling of Cas at his back and the burn of rope on his palms as he slides his hands forward.

Finally his feet are on solid ground again, and Cas is praising him softly as he clips the tether Dean hadn’t even realized they’d stopped for onto their belts. It takes a second for the sound to rush back into his ears, and he realizes Cas looks the happiest he’s ever seen him, his eyes bright. “Fantastic Dean. I knew you could do it.”

It’s the adrenaline that does it. Has to be, because all of a sudden Cas’ face is cupped between his hands and Dean’s lips are pressed to ones that are slightly chapped, stubble scraping against his own as he does his best to kiss Cas senseless, to convey the words thank you because he can’t say them out loud.

Cas is kissing him back too, his hands wrapped around Dean’s hips and his nose nudging against his own. Dean’s pretty sure Cas isn’t saying thank you as well, but he can’t quite read what the other man is trying to articulate. All he can feel is lips and tongue and teeth and Cas.

Cas’ hand manages to slide under Dean’s shirt and finds skin. Dean’s ready to take the thing off so Cas can touch more, camera and inconvenient jungle location be damned, but at the feel of Dean’s sun-warmed skin Cas pulls away as much as the tethers allow, slightly flushed and eyes blown wide with arousal.

“Gabriel should be just down the path,” he manages to get out, and it takes Dean a second to figure out what he’s saying.

“Oh, right. Yeah. The challenge.” He can’t have sounded dumber or more out of his mind turned on if he tried, but that’s just Dean’s life. Cas doesn’t seem to be having any trouble with his cognitive functions though, since he’s already practically pulling Dean away from the goddamned bridge.

Dean must have some variation of a stupid, out-of-it look on his face when they reach Gabriel, because the host keeps smirking widely at him as he runs through whatever speech he’s prepared.

“—Oasis! Congrats, you two get to gay it up in style.”

“Wait, what?”

“We won,” Cas replies without looking at Dean. “Gabriel says there is a car whenever we’re ready waiting to take us to the Oasis.”

“Yup!” Gabriel says cheerfully. “You two get to spend a whole night all alone in a tropical paradise. Try to control yourself there Deano, this is a family show.”

Dean’s stopped listening again. Him and Cas. Alone. In a house. Probably with a giant bed, right? Luxury means giant bed in rich people speak.

Well.

Fuck.

***

Thinking about it, Castiel probably shouldn’t have kissed Dean back. Dean, he knew, had been high off of doing something that had scared him nearly half to death. The only reason he’d kissed Castiel in the first place was to show gratitude at getting him across the bridge. Or perhaps it was just to convey excitement over what he had done. Whatever it was, Dean had an excuse for doing it.

Castiel had absolutely no excuse. At first the kiss had been a surprise, but then he’d continued because he wanted to, pure and simple. If he hadn’t managed to get a hand on Dean’s stomach he might never have felt guilty for taking advantage, and the kiss could have gone on forever.

Now he’s at the Oasis with Dean. While he’s not sure how the other man feels about the whole ordeal, Castiel is unsettled. Frankly, he’s at the point of wanting to fuck Dean up against a wall. He still doesn’t think it would be a good idea, but…he really wants to. And this would be the perfect place to do it.

Dean, much like Balthazar, had taken off the second they’d entered the Oasis, presumably to make admiring noises over everything he saw. Castiel is left in the foyer again, contemplating why this doesn’t bother him as much as it had the first time it had happened. Perhaps it was because Dean, unlike Balthazar, had grown up in a poor environment, and his exploration was more out of curiosity than in an attempt to make sure everything lived up to his standards.

Or perhaps it was just because it was Dean.

“Cas! C’mere, you gotta see this!”

Cas sighs, expecting to be shown the pool again, and begins making his way through the house. However Dean is not out on the balcony, and he stands there for a moment taking in the amazing ocean view again before heading back inside.

The next thing he thinks Dean would deem exciting enough to show him is the bed, so he begins heading to the bedroom. On his way he passes the wide open living room, and pauses when he sees that instead of gaping at the bed, Dean is planted in front of a huge entertainment system he hadn’t noticed his first time here.

“Look what I found,” Dean grins, gesturing at something behind him. At first Castiel thinks he’s talking about the rather large TV, but when he moves closer he sees Dean has opened a series of cabinets, disregarding the fancy looking stereo system and the Blueray player in favor of an old record player.

“A turntable?” Castiel asks, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice.

“Yeah, a turntable, if you’re a dork,” he snorts. “I used to have one of these when I was a kid. It was…well let’s just say it was one of the early perks of the job. But jesus, I used the thing so much I practically ran it into the ground.”

“I never owned a record player,” Castiel admits. “I listened to the radio.”

"I bet you’re a classical guy, aren’t you,” Dean states, appraising him carefully. “Or maybe jazz? No, wait—" he snaps, “I got it. You’re a Boston fan.”

“I like the Beatles.” Castiel thinks for a minute. “And the J. Geils Band.”

“Seriously?” Dean laughs, face lighting up as he turns to rummage through the shelf behind him, which houses a whole shelf of records. He quickly selects one and sets the record into the player, carefully setting the needle down. A few seconds later the opening notes of Whammer Jammer begin playing.

“Don’t ever tell anybody I said this,” Dean warns him, pointing a finger, “but I don’t hate them. This is some fucking bad ass harmonica playing, and I’m not just saying that because the man’s name is Magic Dick.”

“I like them,” Cas says stubbornly. “They always sound happy.”

“Hey man, that’s great,” he smiles, tapping his foot in time to the bluesy rock still playing. “Happy’s good.”

“Who do you like?”

“Me?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Zep, Lynard Skynard, Metallica, AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult…you know Cas, good music.”

“You sound like every stereotypical classic rock fan ever,” Castiel points out. Funnily enough, if he had met Dean in college he probably wouldn’t have liked him. He’d always steered clear of the men who wore ratty old band T-shirts and were always walking around with headphones attached to their heads.

“Hey dumbass, you can bite me. I don’t need lectures from some hipster. And no one ever said I was original,” he replies, turning back to the entertainment system. “Think they got enough DVDs here?”

“Yet you appear to be anyway,” Cas frowns, ignoring Dean’s question. “Did you ever go to college?”

Dean shoots him a weird look. “No. When would I have managed that?”

“Presumably somewhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two.”

“You’d think, huh?” he huffs out an unamused laugh. “I got my GED and never looked back. Hey, you hungry?”

Castiel takes the abrupt change of subject in stride, “A little. There is a cook here. Her name is Ellen. Would you like to meet her?”

“Ah damn, I was hoping I could cook.” Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Sure, let’s go meet her. She’s not gonna make us something snooty, is she?”

“Are lobsters typically considered to belong to the snootier end of the animal kingdom?”

“Lobster, huh?” Dean asks, walking ahead of Castiel. Even though he doesn’t know where he’s going, Castiel notes in amusement. “You guys eat by candlelight and listen to violins or some shit too?”

“No,” Castiel answers simply.

“Good, don’t expect it from me either,” Dean says. Castiel doesn’t answer and instead subtly corrals him in the direction of the kitchen, until Dean manages to make it through the doorway. Ellen is already moving around the cooking area, pots and pans banging as she works.

“Hello Ellen.”

“You again, huh?” she says when she looks up. She eyes Dean, who’s looking around the kitchen carefully, as if he’s cataloguing everything. Castiel wonders how much of that is left over from his past as a thief. He really doesn’t know much about Dean at all, he thinks in disappointment. “No Brit with a stick up his ass this time?”

Dean takes his eyes off the stove at that and grins at her, holding out his hand. “Dean Winchester. Currently with nothing up my ass.”

Instead of shaking his hand, Ellen grabs a towel off the island and smacks him with it. “You’re gonna be inappropriate in my kitchen and you can get out boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please don’t scare him,” Castiel tells her, sitting in the same stool he’d sat in last time.

“Ah, do you like this one?”

"Everyone likes me,” Dean scoffs. “But especially Cas, right buddy?” Not waiting for an answer, he saunters around the island and begins poking through whatever it is Ellen is cooking.

Castiel grimaces at Dean’s back and Ellen gives him a meaningful look as she says, “That so?”

"Dean and I do seem to share…an understanding,” Castiel allows. He’s afraid Ellen might take him too seriously if he makes the profound bond joke again. Ellen continues to stare at him though, so he elaborates. “We’re friends.”

“Pretty close to the best of, at this point, since we both kind of suck in the people department,” Dean adds as he shifts through the ingredients on the counter. “Well,” he amends. “Cas sucks. I’m mostly the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

“I can already tell you’re a charmer,” Ellen says dryly. “Away from my food.”

Dean reluctantly returns to Cas’ side and slumps against the counter. Castiel tries to ignore how close he is and how his eyelashes brush softly against his cheeks as he lets out a huff of air. “What are you makin’?”

“Burgers, whether you like it or not.”

“Like it. That’s fantastic,” Dean says, looking expectantly at Castiel. “Maybe we should leave Ellen alone. I don’t want to ruin her concentration.”

“Seriously?” Castiel asks, shifting in his stool.

“Dude, it’s _burgers_. You know what, that fucking reminds me, Jody never got me that pie I requested.”

“I can make you pie,” Ellen offers unexpectedly, and Castiel looks at her in surprise. He wasn’t under the impression Ellen would accept orders.

Dean’s staring at Ellen too, in something like awe. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he tells her solemnly.

"You know how you can thank me?” Ellen picks up a spatula and brandishes it at him. “Go get your damn bags outta the hallway. No one moves them into that giant master bedroom until late, and dollars to doughnuts I’ll trip over one of ‘em if they’re still there after dinner’s finished.”

“You got it,” Dean flashes her a smile Castiel can feel the effects of even though it’s aimed nowhere near him, and he’s gone in a flash, off to repay Ellen’s offered pie-making services.

“You’re really going to make him pie?” Castiel asks, because if Ellen was kidding, he was going to have to learn how to make it. There was no way Dean wasn’t getting it after how excited he’d looked at the prospect of a simple pastry.

“Sure,” Ellen shrugs nonchalantly. “Kid’s got a good heart. I like him.” She fixes Castiel with a squint. “You like him too. Don’t screw it up.”

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but the look Ellen is giving him says he shouldn’t even try, so he settles glumly back into the stool and wonders when he’d let an irritable, beautiful man capture his attention and why the cook seemed to know more about it then he did.

***

If heaven served burgers, Dean’s pretty sure they’d taste like Ellen’s.

He wasn’t quiet about his appreciation either. He moaned through the entire burger, and yeah, maybe he amped it up a bit when he caught Cas staring at him, but come on. A chance to love a fantastic cheeseburger and make Cas hard at the same time? Like he’d pass that opportunity up.

Ellen was making good on her promise of pie too. Dean could smell roasted pecans and buttery crust wafting from the kitchen. Hell, his mouth was already watering again.

“How are you eating all of that?”

Dean looks up from scraping a french fry around his plate to see Cas staring at him in mild fascination. He has to say, it’s a nice change from Sammy’s usual revulsion. “I’ve always got room for the good stuff Cas.”

Cas’ eyes darken and it takes Dean a second to figure out what he said before he’s smirking at the other man. “Think you’re good stuff Cas?” he teases, popping the fry in his mouth.

“I’m high-grade,” Cas raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to argue. “Are you qualified to handle high-grade?”

Dean pushes his plate away so he can put his elbows on the table and lean closer to Cas, but is interrupted by Ellen setting a steaming hot pie between them. “You’re welcome,” she says pointedly to Dean, and he guiltily pulls his hand back and smelled sheepishly at Ellen.

“Thanks.”

"I’m leaving now,” she says, giving them both a stern look. “You run outta champagne, there’s more in an ice bucket next to the fridge. The rest of the booze is in the cabinet above it.”

“Thank you Ellen,” Cas says, and Dean watches in bewilderment as he stands up and makes the most awkward offer for a hug Dean has ever seen. To his even greater surprise, Ellen returns it.

“You boys behave now,” she warns, patting Cas on the shoulder one last time before leaving.

Cas must catch Dean staring, because he squints his eyes at him. “What?”

“What was that?” he asks. “That has got to be the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“It was a hug.”

“Humans don’t hug like that,” Dean says in indignation, standing up and moving his arms in jerky, aborted half movements just so Cas could see how ridiculous he had looked.

"I apologize for not practicing as much as you obviously have,” Cas tugs at his sleeve in a way Dean would’ve called self-conscious on anyone else. “Perhaps you can show me how it’s done, since it sounds like you’ve earned a degree in the subject.”

Stupid smart ass. “Just for that, I am going to teach you, and you’re gonna have to sit through it and fucking behave.”

Actually, Dean should probably warn himself to behave too.

Because while Cas had been forced to sit still while Dean moaned his way through a whole meal, Dean had been subjected to the clothes Cas had gone and changed into for dinner. A white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone and dark blue tie slung casually around his neck and hanging loose to accommodate that undone button, paired with dark washed, form fitting jeans that showed off Cas’ lean muscles.

“Why are you wearing a tie?” Dean had asked.

Castiel had simply responded. “Why aren’t you?”

So now here’s Cas, looking like a business deal gone wrong, asking Dean to teach him how to hug properly. He looks pretty serious about it, too.

Dean doesn’t hug people very often. He leaves that touchy feely crap to Sam and only employs it when strictly necessary. If he’s gonna hug someone though, he’s gonna go all out, because otherwise what’s the point of hugging in the first place? Dean’s under the impression hugs are for comfort and again, words that can’t be said, so he tries to keep all that in mind while he’s hugging. It’s a big deal.

And Cas wants Dean to do it for him. While he’s wearing that.

Of course, Dean’s also pretty sure Cas isn’t fully aware of what he’s asking out of Dean. After all, to everyone else a hug is probably just a hug, right? Two people wrapping their arms around each other for a couple of seconds. He can do that. With a little precaution, he can totally do that for Cas without it turning into that fuck up of a kiss he initiated earlier that Cass still won’t acknowledge.

“If I’m going to teach a robot to hug, I need a drink,” Dean says, clapping his hands together. “Where’d Ellen say the booze cabinet was?”     

“Above the refrigerator," Cas says, his lips twitching. Dean decides he’s going to make Cas laugh by the end of the night, because that one time he had on the horse had been one of the greatest thing’s he’s ever accomplished. “Are you really going to give me a hugging lesson?”

“You asked for it,” Dean points out, ignoring the fact that Cas was probably one hundred percent kidding and he’s doing this because he wants to. “Grab the pie and go pick out a record or something.”

Not that he really trusts Cas’ music choices, but he’s curious to see what he chooses. The cabinet is stocked to the brim with everything imaginable, and Dean utters a heartfelt word of thanks to the Oasis gods before grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

He can hear the opening notes of Come Together playing from the living room and smirks to himself, because he’s not sure Cas could be any more of a nerd. The man turns out to be standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, the still cooling pie on the coffee table.

“This song is completely coincidental,” he assures Dean the second he sees him, and Dean feels his smirk grow wider.

“Whatever you say man,” he says, brandishing the bottle in his hands. “I brought dessert.”

“Is the pie not a dessert?”

“Pie is life,” Dean explains, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long pull. The liquid burns in a comforting and familiar way, and breaking his impromptu fast is almost better than that burger. Almost.              

He takes another sip, feeling more like himself than he has in ages, and offers the bottle to Cas. “You want some?”

Cas eyes the bottle for a second before pulling it from Dean’s grasp and taking a short sip. He sets it firmly on the table before Dean can ask for it back and, with a stubborn set to his jaw Dean is beginning to find very familiar, demands, “Teach me how to hug now, please.”

“Alright pushy,” he rolls his eyes. “I hope you understand how awkward this is, Cas.”

Cas just keeps staring at him, so Dean sighs. “You don’t lift your arms first, like you were doing,” he says patiently. “Makes you look like you’re just waiting to be rejected. You just kind of…go in.”

“Like this?” Cas asks, and all of a sudden he’s in Dean’s space, breath warm against Dean’s lips.

“Kind of, except don’t just stand there,” he says, pushing Cas back a little in his surprise. “You just go in and—and hug. And then when you’re hugging it’s gotta be real Cas, none of that awkward, pat-you-on-the-back type crap.”

Cas tilts his head, thinks about it for a minute. “Alright. Show me.”

“Show you?” Dean asks, snagging the bottle of Jack off the table and taking another gulp. Costa Rica is fucking hot. “You want me to hug you?”

“Yes. Put the bottle down and hug me.”

Dean stares at him, bottle dangling from his fingers. “Cas, if you said something slightly kinkier in that exact same tone of voice, I’d have my clothes off by now.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas growls, and alright, guess he really wants a hug. Dean sets the bottle of whiskey at his feet and moves purposefully forward, catching Cas’ eyes for a brief second before he wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him into his chest.

He feels Cas stiffen for a split second, because it seems Cas is like a distrustful cat even when he knows he’s about to be touched, but it’s only a moment later that he relaxes, so much so that he practically melts into Dean as he brings his arms around his shoulders and buries his face into Dean’s neck.

Which, okay, is kind of getting into super close, super, ‘hold-my-hand-and-let’s-talk-about-our-feelings’ territory that Dean’s not totally comfortable with. But Cas doesn’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t want to ruin a hug that is clearly needed. Besides that, it feels kind of good. He’s pretty sure the last person he hugged was Cassie, before she decided she didn’t want to deal with him anymore.

Cassie always hugged like it was a mission. Like it was something that had to be done to assure Dean she still liked him. Get in and get out, with none being the wiser. That was Cassie’s style. Cas, on the other hand, was incredibly into it, and seemed to want to linger. Dean’s gonna blame what little booze he’s had for admitting that he’s enjoying it.

Cas finally decides he’s had enough, or starts to feel awkward (weirdly enough, Dean never reaches this point) because he pulls away, a relaxed look on his face. “Thank you.”

“For—for hugging you?” Dean clears his throat and goes immediately for the booze again.

“Yes. I think I’ll be better prepared in the future.”

Dean swallows down the unexplainable surge of jealousy he feels at the thought of Cas practicing his new found skill along with another large amount of Jack. “Still kind of hopeless in an ‘I’ve never seen Star Trek’ kind of way, though.”

“I’ve seen it now,” Cas says smugly. “There is actually life outside of Star Trek, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” The Jack is starting to make Dean feel all warm, so he sinks to the floor where it’s more comfortable. Cas doesn’t even hesitate before sitting down across from him, for which Dean is grateful. It would have been kind of weird and uh…yeah, weird—to be staring up at him. “Who directed Robin Hood: Men in Tights?”

Cas blinks at him. “Is that a movie?”

“Ha!” Dean crows. “See? You don’t know shit. It was Mel Brooks. You gotta drink, Cas.” He shoves the bottle at him.

“First of all,” Cas says, accepting the bottle. “We never established any drinking rules. And second of all, you’re asking me about things you like. I’m sure Dean Winchester is much more unique than the general population.”

Dean ignores the unexpected compliment (or insult, but Cas seems like he’s not all that into the general population) and waves his hand at him. “You get a question wrong, you drink. Those have been the rules since cavemen or something. And you don’t like the questions, you think of your own.”

“Fine.” Cas tips his head back and drinks. Dean tries not to stare at the long lean lines of Cas’ throat as he swallows, but fails miserably. “What is Degas’ most famous sculpture?”

“That’s a bullshit question.”

“So was yours,” Cas retorts, sliding the bottle across the floor at him. It hits his leg and tips slightly into his lap. “The answer is the Little Dancer.”

“Oh,” Dean pauses for a moment to sort his thoughts before taking a drink. “That’s the ribbon one, isn’t it?”

Cas looks at him in surprise. “Yes.”

“I saw it in a museum. In Boston.”

“Why were you there?” Cas asks, way too innocent, and Dean knows exactly what Cas is trying to get at. He knows Cas said he’s cool with Dean’s past, and he’s willing to believe that based solely on the fact that Cas is still around, but apparently he’s still curious. Everyone would be, Dean supposes.

“Nuh uh Cas, it’s not your turn,” Dean warns, twirling the bottle around in his hands. “According to Dark Helmet, why does evil always win?”

“I have no idea,” Cas replies, leaning forward impatiently to take the Jack out of Dean’s lap. “Were you on a job at the museum where you saw the Little Dancer?”

“Yeah,” Dean glared at him, daring him to say something. “Give the bottle back.”

“You answered the question.”

“So?” he scoots forward on the floor so that he’s within inches of Cas. Now the bottle can be set down between them. “We’re doing personal questions now?”

“If you like,” Cas says, hands still wrapped around the bottle. Dean pries it away from him, sees they’re already a quarter through it. Doesn’t matter, the light headedness is easy to ignore. He wonders what kind of drunk Cas is.

“Where’s your dad?” he asks.

Castiel’s eyes go flat and Dean immediately wants to take the question back. “Dead. Where is yours?”

“Probably dead,” he shrugs like he doesn’t care. Like it doesn’t matter John hasn’t bothered to contact him in ten years. “Or in jail. Or lost. Maybe all of the above.”

It’s to Cas’ credit that he doesn’t tell Dean that’s impossible. Or maybe it’s the booze stopping him. Cas is starting to look a little looser.

“What were you taking at the museum?” he asks, his tone not as accusatory as it had been a second ago.

“Dad was grabbing a pair of bongos or something,” Dean shrugs. “We were more for hire. Worked for clients.”

He realizes he still has the bottle of Jack in his hands and takes another pull. Cas frowns at him and tugs the bottle away. “How old were you?”

Something tells Dean Cas isn’t going to like the answer, and funny thing is, it’s not even the worst answer he can give. He remembers picking the pocket of his first nice old lady at nine, was gambling kids out of their lunch money all through his late elementary school years. “Think I was twelve.”

He does his best to pass it off, like it’s no big deal. In Dean’s world, it isn’t. Stealing was just something the Winchesters did, it made perfect sense to him then and now that dad would want to take advantage of any extra hands he could use. Not Sammy though. Sammy wasn’t for the life. Sammy was for Dean to protect.

It doesn’t work though. Cas is giving him his sad empathetic look again, and Dean can’t stand it. He pulls the bottle back and raises it to his lips. The Jack’s almost half gone and he can still feel.

“Dude, this isn’t doing shit,” he says, abruptly standing. “You up for shots, Cas?”

***

Castiel is such an enabler. He is a bad, bad person. He’s had five – or maybe six? – shots of tequila, and Dean is splashing the liquid everywhere as he pours more and explains why it would be stupid for Batman and Superman to fight.

“He’d jus’ have to stuff his suit full o’krypotinite! It would be a dumb fight Cas, dumb, an’ anyone who says otherwise is lyin’, s’what they are…”

Castiel isn’t sure how they got to this conversation. He isn’t really even sure what Dean’s talking about. All he knows is that Dean is now shoving the sloshing shot glass over to Cas and licking a long, wet stripe over his wrist to catch the salt left there. “Le’s go Cas,” he urges, throwing back the shot and shoving a lime into his mouth.

He doesn’t look away from Dean as he carefully licks up all the salt left on his wrist, and enjoys watching the other man carefully tracking the movement. He quickly swallows the shot and wipes a hand over his mouth, looking at Dean again.

Dean’s talking about superheroes and he’s openly checking him out. He’s horrible. He doesn’t care.

Sometimes Castiel wishes he could spend his entire life drunk and not caring. He thinks he’d get a lot more done.

“See something you like, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers honestly, a knee jerk reaction. He doesn’t even think about taking it back.

Dean grins lazily and falls back on the floor in front of Castiel, shirt riding up to reveal his stomach as he lifts his forearm to rest on his forehead. Castiel has never been so grateful for Henleys. Dean’s stomach is gorgeous, lightly tanned and freckled with just the slightest bit of give. “I want to take a shot off of you.”

Dean glances at him from underneath the shadow of his arm. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, s’do that.”

So Castiel grabs the bottle of tequila and Dean pulls the hem of his shirt up to his chest, revealing miles of gloriously freckled skin. Silvery scars mare the surface, stretching from his ribs to his chest, and Castiel spares them a cursorily look before focusing on Dean’s stomach. Carefully he bends over and licks a line leading down to Dean’s belly button before leaning back to sprinkle on the salt. He’s so focused he barely notices Dean’s stomach trembling, and only looks at him when he hoarsely says. “Cas. Lime?”

“Hold it in your mouth,” Cas informs him, and Dean, who doesn’t seem to mind the turn things have taken, sits halfway up and scrambles for a wedge of lime. Castiel waits for him to lie back down before pouring tequila into the dip of his stomach. Dean shudders again and Castiel lays a hand flat on his stomach. “Stay still,” he commands.

“Jesus, alright,” Dean breathes.

Castiel waits until he’s sure Dean’s not going to move before dipping down and licking at the salt on Dean’s stomach all the way to his belly button, where he carefully sucks out the tequila , swirling his tongue around to make certain he’s gotten every last drop. Suddenly a hand is in his hair, yanking him away, and Castiel’s brain has time to register the lime is in Dean’s mouth before they’re bumping noses. He carefully takes the lime from Dean into his mouth, nipping Dean’s lip slightly in the process.

“Fuck Cas. S’my turn next.”

“Alright,” Castiel agrees, but he’s already gravitating back to Dean’s stomach, lying down on the floor next to him and resting his cheek on it like a pillow. “It’s nice Dean. You’re very soft.”

He feels the muscles beneath him tense and contract and he lifts his head slightly, frowning, to meet Dean’s eyes. His ears are tipped red and he won’t look directly at Cas. “M’working on it, ok?”

“Why?” Castiel asks, genuinely confused.

“I know it’s…Cassie always said…” something on Castiel’s face makes Dean’s voice trail off. “Put your face back down there if you’re gonna glare like that, Squinty Eyes.”

To Castiel’s alcohol-soaked brain, this gives him permission to lie back down and rub his face against Dean’s skin.

“Stubble,” Dean grunts, but to Cas it sounds more like an observation than a complaint. His body feels lazy and pliant, and there’s an atmosphere of easiness in the room. Like he and Dean could do anything they wanted and none of it would change anything. His nose bumps over the small ridges and imperfections of Dean’s scars, drawing his attention back to them.

“Are these from your job?”

“Mmm,” Dean hums. The sound vibrates through Castiel’s head, and when no information follows he realizes a carpenter probably earns his fair share of scars as well. He wants to know every story behind them all, whether Dean was cut in a knife fight with a rival thief or whether he lost control of his buzz saw.

“When I was eleven I broke my finger. My father believed it was my penance to the lord and refused to take me to the hospital. I made a splint out of a popsicle stick.”

A heavy hand lands on his head and gentle fingers begin carding through his hair. “No ‘fence Cas, but I really hate your dad.”

“I dislike yours as well,” Castiel says softly, and waits for the inevitable fall out. Dean, he has figured out, is fiercely loyal towards his family, and he fully expects Dean to push him away for suggesting the elder Winchester was a less than stellar parent. He hasn’t exactly made him out to be a saint as Sam said he liked to do, but Castiel had never been quiet about his hatred for his father. If Dean’s dad really hit him, he had a hard time understanding where that loyalty was coming from.

No retaliation comes however. There is only the gentle pressure of Dean’s fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, and Castiel almost begins to drift off before Dean actually does say something.

"I got sent to juvie,” he starts, “when I was seventeen. An’ my dad—my dad was ‘sposed to be there for Sammy. An’ he dumped ‘im in a home somewhere instead. I haven’t seen him since I got out.” Dean shudders a little, and Castiel lifts his head to see that his eyes are squeezed shut, as if that can block out what he’s saying. “I hate him for that Cas. I really do.”

Castiel leaves the softness of Dean’s stomach, tugging the Henley back down so he can lean over his face. “Dean,” he says quietly. “It was your father’s job to watch Sam.”

“No,” Dean says fiercely, eyes opening and shining with tears Castiel pretends not to see. “S’my job Cas. I fucked up, and Sammy ‘ad to pay for it in a foster home.”

“Does Sam blame you?”

"’Course not,” he mutters. “Doesn’t even think it’s a big deal.”

“Then I fail to see why you should blame yourself,” Castiel replies. Dean seems to like his hair, so Castiel decides to return his favor, brushing a hand through Dean’s bangs.

"Maybe,” Dean says shakily, and it’s at this point that he pushes Cas away, sitting up and looking around. “Fuck man, I got out the tequila so I wouldn’t do any of this emotional shit. Grab the shot glasses, we’re going again.”

Cas complies, because he’s a horrible, horrible enabler.

***

Dean has never, like, _never_ , been so drunk in his life. Nobody in the history of the world has been. The inventor of whiskey has _nothing_ on fucking Dean Tequila God Winchester.

He is in fact, so drunk that he’s at the point where he’s not even drunk anymore. His mind is a fucking steel trap. He feels like he could do anything. Why aren’t they doing anything? They should be jumping off cliffs right now, or breathing underwater, because seriously, Dean could do it right now, that’s how drunk he is.

“Cas,” he manages to say. Or at least he thinks he does. Cas isn’t looking at him. Cas, not being the obvious connoisseur of alcoholic beverages that Dean is, is not yet at the point where he’s so drunk he’s not drunk. He’s drunk off of his ass. And delight of delights, Dean has discovered that while to his constant embarrassment he happens to be a drunk of the touchy feely variety, the more alcohol Cas swallows, the more giggly he gets.

He’s ruined like three deadpan jokes already because he starts emitting these low little chuckles that go straight to Dean’s cock. Dean can’t say he’s disappointed by it.

“Caaaaas,” he repeats. For some reason someone’s shoe is lying near him, and since it’s the closest object around the obvious thing to do is toss it in Cas’ direction.

Cas has been having a staring contest with an empty bottle, but he looks up in bewilderment when the shoe goes flying by him, and Dean bursts into laughter.

Cas’ brow furrows for even more comedic confusion, and that plus the disheveled look he’s got going on – Cas having lost his tie around shot nine—makes Dean laugh even harder. “Cas,” he manages to gasp out. “Cas. Gotta – uh – itsa serious question.”

“It really—it really is eight whole inches Dean, really,” Cas says, immediately followed by that chuckle.

Dean shifts, resisting the urge to grind the heel of his palm against his dick. “No. No you ass. S’really serious. Can you—can you still draw?”

A look of wide eyed wonderment crosses Cas’ face at the question, and he shoots out of his seat, stumbling off balance. Dean, who’s right next to him on the floor, pushes against his legs, keeping him upright.

“M’getting my sketchbook,” Cas says, swatting at his hands. “Take off your shirt.”

“Why I hafta take off my shirt?”

Cas is already down the hall, an impressive feat for a drunk guy, but Dean hears something about hot men and the law. And shit, Dean doesn’t want to break the law, he fucking hated jail. So he takes off his shirt and throws it at the couch.

He’s looking around trying to figure out where the shot glasses got to (seriously, where is everything going? For some reason he’s only got one shoe on) when Cas comes tripping back into the room with his sketchbook. “You’re already in here,” he says with an air of surprise, flipping through the pages.

“Wha’?” Dean says, looking up from his sock covered foot. Cas plops down on the floor again, still studying the sketches as if this is the first time he’s seeing them. “Cas,” Dean states, toeing off his other boot. “Lemme see.”

“No,” Cas counters.

“Cas,” Dean repeats, dismayed to hear his voice come out as a whine. He clears his throat and crosses the floor over to Cas, making a grab for the sketchbook. “Lemme see, c’mon.”

“Dean—Dean no.” Cas starts giggling and stretches back as far as he can, holding the sketchbook in the air behind him. Dean follows, and, being the super coordinated guy that he is, manages to crash straight into Cas’ chest, slamming him to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Dean finds himself looking straight into a pair of blue eyes, looking way more alert than they have any right to be. Cas has stopped laughing and seems frozen under him. Dean’s bare chest rubs against Cas’ soft shirt and he swallows.

He could, conceivably, he thinks wildly, kiss Cas right now. He is very, very drunk, he can totally blame it on the alcohol. It can be the alcohol’s fault. In the morning he and Cas can go back to being buddies because hey, they were drunk, shit happens right? Totally normal, totally a part of the whole life experience. It could absolutely work.

He’s gonna do it.

Dean surges down at the same moment he feels Cas’ hands clap around his shoulders, and before he has a moment to realize what that means he’s kissing him. Cas doesn’t feel like fucking around though, because his tongue is pressing against Dean’s lips almost immediately and Dean is opening for him, letting him in.

For some dumb reason Dean’s already forgotten, his shirt is off and Cas’ is not. The cotton feels incredible against his over sensitized skin, but it’s really putting a damper on mission get Cas naked, so he begins fumbling with Cas’ buttons, doing his best to keep his lips on Cas’ at the same time. Doing two coordinated things at once is hard though, so he switches to concentrating on Cas’ neck, licking and sucking on the line of his jaw as he fumbles with his buttons. Cas is making these amazing noises Dean never wants to stop hearing, and he can’t seem to figure out where to put his hands, his palms running up and down Dean’s back, tracing over his spine and shoulder blades.

With an incredible amount of strength Dean pulls back. Cas’ hair is mussed from the carpet, his eyes are blown wide, and his breathing is uneven. Dean notices with satisfaction the red marks all up and down Cas’ neck and can’t keep the stupid grin off his face.

“Why’d you stop?” Cas demands. Dean notices his hands are now wrapped around his hips tight enough to bruise, and he hopes they do.

"Shirt,” he manages to get out, eyes mapping the broad expanse of Cas’ chest. Cas is lean and tight, just like Dean knew he was, but it’s a whole other matter seeing him with his shirt open like this, laid out for Dean to see.

Cas sits up suddenly and Dean falls back to straddling his lap, watching as he shrugs out of the button up. As soon as his wrapped up hand is free Cas is kissing Dean again, uninjured hand buried in his hair.

“Wait—wait, Cas,” Dean turns his head to the side. Cas undeterred, continues to nuzzle his neck. “Dude,” he says. It’s taking an extreme amount of strength not to shift just to the right, because Dean’s pretty sure that would line their cocks up perfectly. He doesn’t want it to end like that though, and through the haze of alcohol he manages to grind out, “condoms.”

Cas stops his assault on every nerve ending Dean possesses, and for a split second he thinks Cas is gonna say no, thanks, a make out session is all we’ll be doing tonight. Have fun with your giant boner, you sad little man. But then Cas’ hair brushes against his chin as he nods, and suddenly Dean’s being lifted off the floor and pulled into the bedroom.

Dean follows quickly, watching the fluid movement of Cas’ hips as he walks, giving the angel tattoo the appearance of flying. He gives Cas only a second to get whatever it is he thinks they need from his suitcase before he’s pushing him onto the bed, climbing over him and pressing down.

Cas’ hips jut forward and he growls, “take off your pants.” Dean hurries to comply, watching Cas do the same before the other man flips them, turning Dean onto his stomach.

“Do you want me to take you like this Dean?” Cas asks quietly, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

Dean considers it for a second, considers letting Cas pound him hard into the soft mattress until he comes. His fantasies have him staring into Cas’ eyes as they fuck though, so he twists around. “Wanna see your face.”

Cas honest to god smiles at him and his heartbeat accelerates, but it’s probably because of the massive amount of blood currently being pumped into his cock. Before Dean can react, Cas’ hand is around him, stroking, and his eyes are boring into him.

“God, yes, good, yes,” Dean babbles, trying to shove closer to Cas. “Jesus… _fuck me_ Cas, c’mon…”

He takes himself into his hand when Cas lets go to roll on the condom, closing his eyes and muttering, “Cas, want you to fuck me so hard, god…”

Preparation is messy and sloppy, both of them impatient to get going. Cas murmurs about how tight Dean is, how good he feels, and Dean thinks he’s going to explode, mentally and physically. The feeling building in his chest is a precursor to an orgasm the likes of which he’s never had before, and he’s eager to get to it, to make Cas come as hard as he knows he’s going to come and to feel as good as he’s feeling.

Finally Cas slides home and freezes, looking down at Dean like he’s never seen him before. Dean doesn’t know why, but he lets Cas have his moment, lets him study him until he slowly pulls out before pushing back in.

Cas’ speed increases with each thrust until finally he hits that sweet spot and Dean lets out a sharp cry. After that Cas manages to get it every time, Dean meeting him thrust for thrust, Cas’ hand buried in his hair and the occasional, “ _Dean_ ,” puncturing Dean’s constant stream of swears. Dean’s heart is pounding and he feels like he’s going to explode any moment, until finally he’s overcome and releases, fingers clenching in the bed sheets below him. Cas joins him a moment later and collapses on top of him, smearing spunk and stickiness all over their stomachs.

Dean has no energy. He can only stare up at the ceiling and wonder exactly when it is he sobered up.

Castiel pulls out of him then, shoves at Dean to get him to move so he can haul the sheets out from under them. Dean lets Cas manhandle him, because Cas’ movements are slow and tired, from the sex or the drunkenness or a combination of both.

He ends up with Cas curled around him, face buried in the back of his neck and arm slung around his stomach, asleep and snuffling like a puppy within seconds.

Dean’s last thoughts before he drifts into unconsciousness are _fuck, why is that cute_ and _Sammy must never, ever find out I was the little spoon._

***

When Castiel first wakes up it takes him a moment to figure out where he is.

Dean is snoring softly on the pillow beside him, hair half flattened and half sticking all over the place, his leg slung over Cas’ and arm shoved under his pillow. Castiel stares at him a second. It doesn’t escape his attention that both he and Dean are naked, nor that the sheets are in a tangled mess on the floor and his jeans are hanging precariously off the dresser.

He’s not going to pretend he doesn’t remember the sex. He doesn’t even want to.

Carefully he extracts himself out from under Dean’s leg, pulling his pants on as a courtesy in case Ellen is in the kitchen. Usually he’s not up this early, but he feels the most rested he’s been in years, miraculously with no hangover, and doesn’t mind that it’s barely dawn.

The kitchen is empty and dark, so Castiel starts the coffee maker and waits in sleepy silence for the pot to fill up. Filling a mug, he carries the coffee out onto the balcony so he can watch the ocean while he drinks.

Last night was…last night has already quickly become one of Castiel’s favorite nights ever. In his wildest fantasies when he’d imagined having sex with Dean, he’d thought it would be wild and fast and messy. It was messy, but Castiel is going to blame that on being drunk. Dean was caring and tender and incredibly responsive, and he doesn’t know why he thought sex with him would be any different. Dean may act tough and abrasive most of the time, but Castiel knows more of Dean than that. He’s seen the Dean that appeared in bed before, on the bridge, when he talks about Sam.

Castiel wants to see that Dean all the time, but he’s afraid Dean doesn’t feel the same way.

There is nothing to explore about Castiel. Everything he is is laid out for the world to see, and usually when someone experiences him once they have no desire to do so again. For the first time in his life, Castiel is worried by the prospect that someone may not want to have sex with him again.

Even worse, what if Dean decides to pretend it never happened? After all the talking they’d done, all the alcohol they’d had, and then the sex, what if Dean decided he just didn’t like who Castiel was? He could pick a new partner tonight and there was nothing Cas could do about it. He’d just have to accept it and move on, always knowing that this beautiful man who’s captured his attention is in some way disappointed with the person he is.

It doesn’t feel like the end. Castiel has said a lot of goodbyes in his life, none of which have bothered him all that much, but for some reason, he cannot yet imagine a situation in which it would be alright to say goodbye to Dean. If Dean allows Cas to stay his partner until they’re kicked off the show, then maybe that will suffice, but in this strange bubble in the jungle, away from the real world, separating is not something Castiel wants to do.

“Cas?”

Dean is standing in the wide open breeze way, hair still ridiculously mussed and looking hilariously put out. “What are you doing?”

“I was thinking,” Castiel replies. “Dean, about last night—“

“Stop,” Dean interrupts sleepily, and Castiel feels his heart sink, waits for Dean to tell him to forget it, but instead Dean just grabs his hand, pulls him back to the bedroom. “Too early for this shit,” he mumbles, nudging Cas onto the bed.

Cas sits down, perplexed, watching as Dean climbs into bed behind him and pulls him down. He spends a few moments in silent ignorant bliss, enjoying the feel of Dean’s arms wrapped around his waist and his nose in his hair before he asks, “what are we doing?”

“G’back to sleep, Cas,” Dean says, lips brushing the back of his neck. “S’too early. My head hurts.”

“But—“

“Sleep,” Dean sighs. Castiel decides to be quiet, because Dean is holding him, and it seems stupid to complain about that.

***

Dean’s getting pretty fucking tired of waking up without Cas in the bed, and he hopes it doesn’t become a habit, because he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

Sure he falls asleep nice and warm with Cas shoved up against him, and that gives him awesome dreams. Dreams that turn out not to end so awesomely when he wakes up in a cold bed all alone.

Maybe he should take it as a sign that Cas doesn’t really want to be in the bed with him to begin with. Sure, he thought last night was great, incredible even, but maybe it sucked for Cas. Which sucks for Dean, because he wants to do it again, and every time he thinks about not doing it again, he gets this dumb feeling in his stomach, like the bottom’s dropped out.

What would be even worse than not having sex again, or having a chance to ride Cas to Kingdom Come, was if Cas decided he’d had his fill. Cas had pretty much admitted he was a one night kind of guy, hadn’t he? What the fuck makes Dean so special Cas would choose him not once, but twice? Hell, if they weren’t stuck on this stupid show together, Cas wouldn’t have ever even considered Dean. Dean’s loud and rude and wears too many plaid shirts and is usually covered in sawdust.

The more Dean thinks about it, the more he realizes he was lucky to even have had sex with Cas at all. He should be fucking thankful it happened and move on.

His head is already pounding from the amount of alcohol he consumed last night. He may be damn close, but he’s not totally immune to hangovers. He needs food.

Cas is in the kitchen this time around when Dean goes looking for him. Ellen must have come and gone, because the island is laden with pancakes and eggs, though Cas is only sitting with his cup of coffee again. Dean wonders if that’s a city thing, an artist thing, or just a Cas thing, to keep yourself alive until noon on coffee.

He doesn’t say anything when Dean walks in, just waits until Dean’s got his plate filled and is sitting across from him. Vaguely remembering the conversation Cas tried to start earlier this morning, Dean decides to dive in before Cas is forced to bring it up again.

Only problem is, he really doesn’t want to say anything without knowing where Cas stands.

“So about last night,” he prompts, hoping Cas will pick up the thread. Miraculously, he does, in the way only Cas can.

“We had sex.”

“Yeah,” Dean chokes a little on his pancakes. “Yeah, we did.”

Cas purses his lips at his coffee mug. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“Yeah, I get it, me t—wait what?”

“I said I hoped you liked it,” he repeats, voice lilting up at the end, like it’s a question. It makes him sound uncertain, which is a really strange sound for Cas.

“It was—I liked it,” Dean says dumbly. “Yeah.”

“You’re very attractive,” Cas continues like he hasn’t heard him, and god dammit Winchester, are you _blushing_? “And I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue as long as we’re here together.” He finally looks up at Dean. “It seems stupid to stop, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Fuck yeah it would,” Dean agrees immediately. “We got a good thing going here Cas. Might as well ride it out.”

"You…you don’t have a problem with that?”

“No,” Dean says quickly, clearing his throat. “I mean, nah. It’s not like we’re dating or anything right? Just having sex while we can. We’re in Costa Rica for christ’s sake, I’m pretty sure it’s against the law not to bang here as much as possible.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums and then, miracle of miracles, Dean catches the slightest smile before Cas is drinking from his mug again.

It’s no surprise to anyone, least of all a lewdly grinning Gabriel, when Dean and Cas pick each other at the Couple’s Choice Ceremony that night.


	8. Chapter 7

By far the worst thing about this show was that the second you started liking the people you were stuck with, they got ripped away from you.

“Charlie!” Dean calls after her. “Hey Charlie, wait up!”

He sees Charlie pull Gilda aside on the path ahead and starts walking faster to catch up to her, not checking to see if Cas is keeping up or not. What with everything that had happened last night and the ceremony having gone so quickly, it had taken him longer than it should have to realize that because Charlie and Gilda had come in last, they were going home. Dean had rushed out of the pavilion after them as soon as Gabriel had set them free.

“Are you supposed to be talking to us after we got kicked off the island?” Charlie asks as they got closer.

“You’re gonna lecture me about rules now?”

"Hmm,” she brings a finger to her lips. “Fair point.”

“I’m sorry you two didn’t make it,” Cas speaks up from beside Dean.

“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Gilda sighs. “I think we could’ve been really good friends too. There was a vibe.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Gilda,” Charlie chides, pulling a phone out of her pocket and tossing it to Dean. “Park your number in there, Winchester. I’ll beat your ass on X-Box Live any time you want.”

“Who the hell says I have an X-Box?”

“Shut up,” she says fondly, snatching the phone back from him and handing it to Cas. “You too.”

Cas studies the phone carefully before deliberately entering in a series of numbers.

"So what are you guys gonna do now?” Dean asks, watching him.

“Oh you know, we both live in New York, so we’re going to keep dating,” Gilda says happily. “Maybe if it turns out to be the real deal we’ll go on our own romantic trip or something.”

“Mhmm,” he hears Charlie agree. “And maybe we’ll pop out a couple of kids too.”

“Uh hu—wait what?” Dean finally turns away to look at her and Charlie grins, mouthing ‘gotcha’.

“At least six,” Gilda continues without missing a beat, and for a second Dean envies how easy their relationship seems. He bets they never have to have sex expiration date conversations. They probably just get to keep having sex whenever they want, without worrying that the other person doesn’t want it anymore. Because obviously they both like each other. A lot.

“I hope the six children work out for you,” Cas says, handing the phone back to Charlie. “If not you could always try cats.”

Dean and Charlie both make a face, causing Gilda to laugh. “You guys don’t like kitties? Shame on you!”

“Allergies,” Dean protests. Charlie only makes a gagging noise.

“Hey!” someone yells. “You two need to get your stuff and get out of here!” A serious looking blonde in a headset is approaching them, a frown on her face. She looks familiar, but Dean can’t remember her name. “You know you’ve been eliminated, right?”

“They know, Rachel,” Castiel speaks up. “We were saying goodbye.”

“Oh, Castiel,” Rachel visibly relaxes and Dean doesn’t miss how she gravitates closer to him. “Ok. Just make it quick, there really is a car waiting for them.”

“Well Gilda, I can see we’re not wanted here,” Charlie sniffs and then, to his surprise, pulls Dean into a hug. He reacts automatically, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Good luck with Mr. McDreamy,” she says softly in his ear, pulling back with a wink before turning to Cas.

As Dean begins to worry Charlie maybe saw something she shouldn’t have, his surprise can only grow as he watches Cas hug her without hesitation. And like a normal person. Yeah, that was all Dean’s good work. Plus, Cas didn’t bury his face in Charlie’s neck. That meant his and Cas’ hug had been special right? Jesus he sounded like a pansy. Special hugs.

It was just a hug. And some kissing. A little groping. Sex. Whatever.

Gilda doesn’t hug them, but she does wave goodbye to both of them, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist. “This is where we say goodbye,” Charlie says with the air of a priest.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Gilda agrees. Both of them manage to hold the sorrowful faces for about ten seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Wow, you almost had me going there,” Dean deadpans.

Charlie rolls her eyes and flashes him the Vulcan sign. “Later nerds,” she calls, retreating back to the cabins with Gilda.

"Is that the Spock sign?” Cas asks. Dean glances at him to see his hand kind of spazzing out and realizes he’s trying to mimic Charlie.

"Yeah, good eye, Cas. It’s ‘live long and prosper’. Here…” he takes a hold of Cas’ hand, carefully arranging his fingers so there’s a space between his middle and ring finger.

“How are humans supposed to make their hand do this comfortably?”

“It’s an alien symbol Cas, humans aren’t supposed to be able to do it easily.” He looks up to see Cas squinting in disbelief at him and feels a sudden and unexplainable surge of affection. Most likely because Cas is acting all confused. He’d always used to feel like this the few times Sammy came running to him asking for homework help. Like he wasn’t just needed for something, but actually wanted for it too.

“The aliens are played by humans Dean, it makes no sense for them to create a hand gesture hard to do.”

“Well that’s why they’re actors, isn’t it?”

Rachel clears her throat and Dean realizes he’d forgotten she was still there. Or maybe he thought she’d left. Either way, he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Yes, Rachel?” Cas asks politely. He doesn’t pull his hand from Dean’s and makes no effort to block him from the conversation, something Dean is grateful for.

"I’m actually supposed to give you a message,” she answers in a prim voice, her eyes fixed firmly on Cas’ face. “Crowley would like to see you.”

“That executive producer dickbag?” Dean asks in confusion. “Why?”

“He wants to see Cas,” Rachel replies, still looking right at Cas. It’s like a less intense version of the stare Dean is usually on the receiving end of from Cas. He hopes Cas isn’t liking it as much as he usually did.

Cas actually rolls his eyes at her, and this Rachel chick’s threat level drops way down. “I have the same question.”

"Look, he just told me to have you meet him at his office in the complex tomorrow morning at nine. The challenge is later in the day, so there’s plenty of time.”

Cas frowns. “What if I don’t want to?”

Dean appreciates the rebel in Cas (fuck does he appreciate it) but he gets the feeling this Crowley guy could make their life hell. He’d really just rather spend what time they had here having sex in possibly illegal positions, not getting hounded by a shady looking dude in a suit.

“Just go see him so he’ll leave you alone,” Dean cuts in. “He’s already making you get up early.” He notices his thumb has been skimming up and down Cas’ hand and abruptly stops.

“Fine,” Cas agrees, looking unhappy about the entire thing. Maybe even about Dean’s thumb having stopped, except he’ll never know now. “I’ll meet him tomorrow.”

“It’s settled,” Rachel nods sharply. “I’ll let him know.”

Cas still looks unhappy, something Dean hopes he can remedy before Cas has to go listen to more British accents. Poor guy. “Hey,” he nudges him, smiling suggestively. “Don’t think too hard about it. Think about how if you wake up early enough tomorrow I’ll get you off.”

***

When Castiel was in art school he’d had a teacher named Pamela who insisted anything expressed by humanity was art. From the clothes they wore to the highways they built to the television shows they created, everything was some deep extension of human consciousness. It was art. You could tell a lot about a person’s soul, she’d said, just by taking in their surroundings and what they’d created for themselves.

The waiting room outside of Crowley’s office is inside the complex they’d first arrived in what seems like years ago. It’s small and drab and dark, and the longer Castiel sits in it, the more he hates the idea of having to meet the man himself.

As Pamela would say, the expression in here was draining.

Dean had done his absolute best to cheer him up this morning. Castiel had indeed woken up on time, not because of any alarm but because he’d gradually gained consciousness to a murmured, “Cas. Wakey wakey eggs and backy,” and the feeling of a wide, rough palm stroking his dick.

“Dean?” he’d questioned, voice rougher than usual from just waking up. Dean was leaning over him, smiling when he saw Castiel’s eyes open.

“Hey Cas,” Dean had grinned. “You cool with this?”

“Stop being a tease,” Castiel had answered, squirming slightly from the pleasure already pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t known where to look, his gaze flitting from Dean’s hand running over him to the way the sunlight filtered through his lashes and washed the light dusting of freckles under his eyes in a golden glow. “Is this your idea of a wakeup call?”

“Kinda.” He had continued to stroke Cas, not touching him anywhere else. “Promised you I’d get you off, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Cas had said, hips jerking involuntarily as Dean teased his thumb over the head of his cock. “I remember you telling me I had to wake up first.”

“Sure, I’m helping you do that.” Dean then shifted and Cas could see that he was hard in his sleep shorts, his cock straining against the fabric.

Castiel had pushed his hand away, Dean looking at him in confusion, his hand retreating awkwardly to his knee. Castiel ignored him, hooking a finger in the waist of his shorts. “Take these off, please.”

It had taken a moment for Dean to get it, but when he did his shorts were dropped off the edge of the bed and he’d pressed flush against Cas, his green eyes bright. “This was supposed to be for you, you know. To make sure you’re not all grumpy when you go meet Crowley.”

“This is a good way to start,” Castiel had assured him before pressing his lips to Dean’s. If Dean looked surprised at the gesture, he didn’t say anything, and the expression on his face soon melted into one of intense pleasure as Castiel wrapped a hand around both of them. He intended to take control, but Dean seemed determined to give this to him, and he quickly wrapped his hand back around Cas’ own to set the pace.

“Yeah,” Dean had muttered, their bodies going slick as they rutted against one another. “Yeah Cas, that’s it. Be good for me. Come all over me, I’ll go to breakfast smelling like you, thinking of you while you’re gone…”

Castiel had whined, thrusting harder against Dean with less grace than two teenagers going at it in a bathroom stall. They were both so wet with precome and sweat that their hands no longer had any friction as they rubbed against their dicks with a messy thwacking sound.

“Dean,” Castiel had ground out. “Dean, I need…”

“I got you Cas. Lay it on me, I can take it.” He’d leaned closer, his breath warm against the shell of Cas’ ear. “I want it.”

Castiel had pulled Dean’s hair when he’d come, but Dean hadn’t seemed to mind, had been very enthusiastic about it judging by the way he encouraged Cas before coming as well.

So all in all, not the worst eight o’clock wake up he’d ever had.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Crowley’s voice matches his décor, dry and somehow mocking despite having said something completely normal. He’s in a suit again, and Castiel finds himself studying Crowley like he’s going to draw him, taking him in as he stands unconcernedly in the doorway to his office.

The suit is obviously expensive and tailored to fit, and he stands with confidence, straight and proud without being stiff. There’s a slight curl to his lips that suggests he feels everything transpiring before him was just a waste of his time. Castiel notes with interest how, even though he’s clearly visible in the doorway, he manages to look like he’s lurking, not because it looked like he didn’t belong there, but like living in the shadows was his natural state of being. His entire character puts Castiel immediately on edge.

“I was thinking,” Castiel replies, standing up from his seat. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Oh no, my time isn’t more valuable than anyone else’s,” Crowley raises and eyebrow. “Quite interesting to watch you think. You actually made some expressions.”

Castiel, who was about to walk towards Crowley, stands still. “Have I not been providing you with enough expressions?”

“Just a joke,” Crowley waves his question off, and whether or not he knew Castiel is being sarcastic he can’t tell by his easy expression. “I’ve been watching the demos of the show. You have quite the poker face, Castiel.”

“It comes in handy,” Castiel agrees. “Should we go into your office, or do you want to continue the discussion out here?”

Crowley studies him a full minute longer before gesturing. “Come on then, if you’re going to be testy. I haven’t got all day.”

Castiel follows him into the office, which is bare except for a desk and a chair situated across from it. “Please, sit down,” Crowley offers, settling into his comfortable looking office chair behind the desk.

“I’d rather not,” he says bluntly. “Why am I here?”

“Alright, straight to the point,” Crowley laces his fingers together and leans back in the chair. “I have a proposition for you.”

“No thank you.”

“Now now, hear me out,” he smiles, a sleazy thing that doesn’t reach his eyes and makes Castiel want to squirm. “This is what I do, Castiel. I’m a businessman. I make deals. I’m sure we can find a way to be mutually beneficial to one another.”

Castiel, sensing he won’t be able to leave until he at least hears what Crowley has to say, places his hands on the back of the chair and leans into it. “Fine. What is your proposition?”

“In the next challenge Meg is going to come in at first place. She will choose you to be her partner, and you will accept, per the rules of the game. You will take that partnership all the way to the finale.”

“Excuse me?”

“Drop Dean. Go with Meg. I thought I was clear enough.”

Castiel’s fingers begin to ache and he realizes his fingers are digging painfully into the uncomfortable chair in front of him, his knuckles gone white with the effort. He does his best to relax before answering Crowley. He’s not sure what possible motivation the man can have for splitting him and Dean up, other than mere amusement, but it remains that this show is Castiel’s only chance to spend time with and get to know Dean before they go back to their normal lives. It’s not something he’s willing to give up easily.

“You were very clear. What I don’t understand is why, or how this is in any way beneficial to me.”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Please Castiel, I am setting you and Meg up as The Couple. You came on this show to win, didn’t you? Promotions and all that, I heard. So we’ll up the ante on the amount of screen time your drawing gets, you’ll win the trip around the world without any of the stress of actually having to compete, boom boom bang, everyone can go home happy.”

"Except that I strongly dislike Meg,” Castiel points out. “I’ve made that very clear. The partnership Dean and I have is actually real.”

“Let me explain a business model to you Castiel,” he says carefully. “I am a producer. I give the consumer what they want. Sometimes consumers are such idiots they don’t know what they want, so I make them want something. In this case it’s you and your simple-minded boy toy. Your partnership has proven to be incredibly popular in our testing. They want to see you together. Demand has gone up. If the supply stops, demand will become even higher and more desperate. Enter Meg.” Crowley winks at Castiel, looking pleased with himself. “Each week more and more people will tune in with the hopes of seeing you and Winchester back together, prevailing over the evil girl who’s stolen Romeo away from his Juliet. Ratings will skyrocket.”

Castiel stares at him in a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “That makes no sense. If people like the partnership Dean and I have, keeping us together would make them happy.”

“Happy people don’t topple civilizations,” Crowley says in a bored tone of voice. “Angry people do. Organized chaos is the name of the game.”

Realization dawns on Castiel as Crowley’s words sink in. “Did you,” he asks coldly, “tell Meg to hurt my horse?”

Crowley’s self-satisfied smirk cracks into an ugly grimace. “Idiot girl went too early. I told her you needed to be at the Oasis with Dean before she came in first, but she didn’t listen. Anyone with some sense would know the product always sells better after a preview.”

“You’re manipulating emotions for your own monetary gain.”

“I knew there was a brain somewhere in that straw filled head, Scarecrow. So, ready to give the Wizard what he wants?”

“No,” Castiel growls. “I _like_ Dean. The whole point of this show is to connect with people you like. I could care less about your ratings.”

“What a sweet, incredibly naïve world you live in,” Crowley hums, pulling out a piece of paper. “Unfortunately for you, this is my world. The agreement you signed to be on the show states that the direction in which the show progresses, including matters relating to couples, winners, and challenges, is under the discretion of the show itself. I’m the show Castiel. If you fail to comply, I’ll kick you off.”

Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to hit anyone more in his entire life. He hasn’t been in a fight since college, yet here he is at nearly thirty wanted to punch the smug look right off of Crowley’s face.

He can’t be kicked off the show. The whole point of coming here was to re-kick start his career, and if he leaves without the around world trip, and at the very least without the publicity he so desperately needs, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Inias will kill him for being so stupid, and then he’ll resurrect him just so Castiel can spend the rest of his miserable life in a nine to five office job just like his father had wanted.

If Crowley kicks him off the show, it will cut short his time with Dean.

At least if he goes with Meg, he will still be here. He will still see Dean. Crowley hadn’t said anything about not being able to talk to him, although Castiel senses from his whole supply and demand speech he’d rather their contact be limited. But if he agrees now, it will give him more time to figure out what to do later.

Putting on an air of defeat, Castiel huffs out a sharp, gruff laugh. “I guess I have no choice. What exactly is it you want me to do?”

Crowley smiles at him. “There’s a good boy. We’ve provided Meg with what she needs to win next challenge easily, but just in case she manages to fuck it up, try to stay back as much as you can. We’ll take care of the rest. At the Ceremony Meg will choose you as her partner. Don’t wet your pants over it, but act like you’re fond of the damn girl, or we’ll have problems.” He comes around the desk to stand in front of Castiel, and he has to resist the urge to step away. Being in close vicinity to Crowley is not at all a pleasant experience. “Do we have a deal?” Crowley asks, sticking out his hand.

Castiel wordlessly shakes it, his mouth set in a grim line. The second he gets back, he’s going to tell Dean what’s going on, and they can figure it out together. Assuming Dean isn’t too pissed at him for agreeing to this whole stupid farce in the first place.

“One more thing,” Crowley adds, his hand still clenched tightly around Castiel’s. “Once you’re Meg’s partner, you must limit your on-camera contact with Winchester.”

“Would you like me to paint something in your honor as well?” Castiel asks dryly.

“Hilarious joke, mate,” Crowley doesn’t seem fazed, and it doesn’t matter, because for now, he’s won. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

***

It’s crazy how much Cas has managed to integrate himself into Dean’s life so easily in just a few days. Because it turns out that when he’s not around, Dean is really friggin’ bored.

Sitting on the steps of their cabin brooding is not what Dean considers a good time, and he tries to remember what the fuck he did before he and Cas started hanging out with each other. He probably dedicated a lot of time and energy protesting hanging out with Cas. Damn it.

Hopefully this is just another symptom of Sam’s whole being trapped on a game show madness, because it’d suck if Dean went back home and was bored half to tears because Cas wasn’t around. What the hell was he supposed to do if that happened? He’d be screwed.

It’s not like Cas is irreplaceable or anything. Dean’s sure he could find another sarcastic hot guy with a weird sense of humor, amazing blue eyes and who gives an amazing fuck.

Alright, so maybe that’s kind of a tall order. But there has to be someone else out there. It’s not like Cas is Sam, or someone else irreplaceable. It’ll take less than two days before Dean’s over it.

“Dean!” Jo calls, and Dean pulls himself from his weird, confusing thoughts to see her strolling down the path towards him.

“Hey Jo,” he greets and stands, because being a thief usually meant charming the pants off someone, and when Dean wanted to he had the manners to do it. “You bored too?”

“I was going to go for a swim,” she says, and he notices for the first time she’s in a bikini. Which is usually something he would have noticed a lot earlier, but whatever. Everybody has their off days. “It’s a good thing I found you if you’re bored though. Jody finally let Benny into the kitchen, as long as he’s back in time for the challenge. He wanted me to tell you to meet him there.”

Dean feels his mood brighten almost instantly. Finally, he could do something with his hands and not feel so useless anymore. Sam had made him leave his whittling knife at home because he said it would look bad. Like Dean’s concerned about flashing a small knife at a country that allows kids to buy guns and shoot each other up. Sam still won the argument, but only because after about five times of attempting to jump and grab it out of Sam’s hands he’d figured trying any more would just be sad.

“Any requests while I’ve got a kitchen?” he asks, already beginning to walk. He can taste the release from cabin fever he hadn’t even realized he’d had.

“Benny’s got me covered,” Jo winks. “You just focus all that energy on making something good for Cas.” She whips her towel over her shoulder in a defiant way that brokers no argument, not that Dean can think of anything to say before she saunters off.

Since when had it become common consensus that he and Cas were a couple? Because it was complete bull crap. They were more like soldiers who’d been trapped in a foxhole together for too long and had decided to just fuck it all out for the good of the country. Once they returned to civilian life, they’d never speak of it again, so Dean’s not sure why everyone else is making such a big deal of it.

It should be like Vegas. What happens on the show, stays on the show.

Hopefully this shit would end when they did actually get back home. Dean could expect some teasing and whining from Sam for a couple of weeks after they returned, but usually he shut up about it if Dean ignored him enough. Or if Dean whined right back. It was a rare and beautiful thing when Dean had enough dirt on Sam to deflect from his own, and if Sam was going to make this friendship with Cas difficult for him after it was all over, Dean was going to mention Luke every chance he got.

Of course there was always the possibility that Sam was _serious_ about this Luke thing. As in, ‘Dean this is my boyfriend, Luke’ serious. Damn it. Not only would that be gross (Dean doesn’t need to be subjected to Sam macking on anybody, girl, guy, or lady Sasquatch), all the ammo Dean would get from their relationship being a one off deal like his and Cas’ is would be completely useless. ‘Hey, remember how you used to sneak off with that guy who’s now your boyfriend?’ does not have the same fire power as, ‘heh, hey Sammy, remember your gay crisis and how you almost ended up dating a trucker?’

Not that Dean knows if Luke actually earns his living driving eighteen wheelers cross country. He doesn’t actually really know anything about him. He’s been busy hanging out with Cas.

So great. On top of everything else, he’s been neglecting Sam’s safety. He really needs to have a talk with Luke.

Finding his way back to the compound is pretty easy, although it’s more of a fucking walk then he thought it would be, since last time Jody had brought them over in the jeep. The kitchen is past the lounge they’d all gathered in before the competition started, situated in the back of the compound near a loading dock, probably so whoever catered their meals could easily get the food over to them. It’s huge too, taking up a good portion of the back half of the building, and Dean takes a minute in the doorway to study it before Benny makes his presence known.

“You just gonna stand there and stare all day?”

Benny is at the counter, donned in an apron with a bare chested six pack printed across the front and surrounded by what look like vegetables.

“Nah,” Dean grins slowly. “Now I’m gonna stand here and stare at you, you stud.”

“Shut up,” Benny grumbles. “Jo gave it to me. Hell if I know where she got it.”

“Where wouldn’t she have gotten it?” Dean laughs, sauntering over to the counter. “I’d have gone out and found one myself if I knew it was gonna result in such a beautiful thing.”

“Tease all you want brother, but your clothes are gonna get covered in food. My rock hard abs will be protectin’ me.”

“Aw, I didn’t get one too?” Dean pulls his face into a mock pout, pulling off his over shirt and setting it aside so it wouldn’t get too fucked up. “Good thing I’m pretty even when I’m covered in…what the fuck is that, asparagus?”

“You just let your mama keep telling you that,” Benny replies, snatching the leafy green sticks away from him. “And damn right it’s asparagus.”

“It’s offensive to me, is what it is,” Dean says, looking around at the rows and rows of cabinets, the big fridge and the door he can only assume leads to a bigger pantry. “We allowed to use whatever we want?”

“Jody gave me free range, I ‘spose I don’t mind extending it to you,” Benny tells him. “What are you planning on making?”

“Honey peanut butter cookies,” Dean says absently, opening the fridge and staring into it. “Holy shit, there’s like, fifty cartons of eggs in here.”

“You say it like it’s a lot,” Benny laughs. “I know I’ve seen you eat at least two cartons in one sitting.”

“Look who’s talking. I’ve seen Sam shooting you the side-eyed disgusted bitch face at mealtimes, and believe me, that is not an easy thing to accomplish.”

“Happy to have earned your brother’s attention. Do you think he’s jealous of my six-pack?”

Dean snorts. “Sam eats rabbit food and runs more than Pheidippides. Kid’s probably got some weird mutant twelve pack.”

“Who the fuck is Fi-dippy?”

“You know, the Greek marathon guy,” he answers, pulling a single egg out of a carton and setting it on the counter, away from Benny’s chopping board. “You need anything from the pantry?”

“No thanks,” Benny frowns, picking up his knife again. “You study Greek or something?”

“Sam liked monster stories when we were kids, and a lot of it was mythology,” Dean explains, grabbing flour and sugar and honey and all the other crap that goes into making delicious diabetes inducing dough discs. It’s strange that he’s never told anybody anything about his childhood in his life, and now he’s told both Cas and Benny the same thing. “Sometimes when a customer doesn’t know what they want on their furniture other than something elaborate I use mythology as inspiration. It can look pretty cool.”

“You do custom orders?” Benny asks with interest. “Maybe I’ll order something from you.”

"Sure,” Dean smiles, not really expecting anything out of it. Most of his orders depend on word of mouth, and his business is sustained by the two or three rich people thrown his way each year who want him to create whole dining room and family room sets for them. He’s not exactly what you’d call big business, but hey, at least he’s doing something he loves. And at least it’s legitimate.

He sets out his pile of ingredients in a semi-circle and grabs a mixing bowl to place in the middle. Sam always calls him anal whenever he catches Dean in the kitchen because Dean always yells at him whenever he sets foot in there. C’mon though, he always fucks around in the pantry, and Dean’s been pretty clear that everything there is alphabetized by food group.

“So what are you making?” he asks Benny. Benny’s got an elaborate system of cheese, olive oil, pasta and asparagus going on. “You too good for cheeseburgers, man?”

"Never too good for a burger,” Benny says cheerfully. “It’s for Jo. Thought I’d take her on a picnic.”

“You’re making the rest of us look bad, Benny.”

He laughs. “Nothing’s stopping you from giving those cookies to Cas, Dean.”

Dean shrugs and dumps the last of the dry ingredients into the bowl. “Maybe I’ll let him have some if he’s nice.”

"You playin’ hard to get with him? You two seem past that point.”

Dean laughs. “You kidding me Benny? Not you too.”

“Not me too?” Benny repeats, raising an eyebrow and glancing at him. “What’d I do?”

“Everyone here’s got some weird idea that Cas and I are a thing,” he shrugs.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything brother, but you are. You’re partners in this hell hole.”

Dean grins. “Hell hole’s a pretty good word for it. And yeah, we’re partners, but we’re not…I don’t know, a couple or whatever the hell it is you’d call you and Jo. We’re not doing any of the romantic crap that all the rest of you are.” He gestures at Benny’s cutting board. “Like making picnics.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Benny nods, turning on a burner on the stove behind them. “Just figured you were when I saw you two together.”

Dean wonders what it is about him that screams, ‘I’m one hundred percent committed to this person,’ because it sure as hell isn’t intentional. Sure, Cas has become a good enough friend that Dean’ll defend him against assholes, and yeah, just an hour ago he was trying to figure out what his life was going to be like without Cas. But that’s not commitment, right? It’s just, uh, valid concern over someone you have interest in. Yeah that’s it. Dean cares about Cas a little bit, sure, but only so much as you can care about someone you’ve only known for a short amount of time and fuck on a semi-regular basis.

Which isn’t a lot to go on. You can’t care about someone you haven’t known a long time. You just can’t. So forget it.

“Maybe it seems like that here because everything is so weird with the show and being stuck together and all that,” Dean concedes. “But, I mean, think about if you saw us out on the street. Thought wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

The other man shoots him a strange look as he dumps pasta into a pot and sets it on the stove. “I’m not sure what you mean by that one, brother.”

Dean pours honey, the last ingredient, into the bowl and starts mixing. “You know what I mean, man. Some people are just too good for others. Cas wouldn’t even be my friend if it weren’t for this show.”

"Ah I see. He sounds like a stuck up fuckhead to me,” Benny says dismissively. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

Dean feels a rush of indignation, because he does worry about it, and for some reason it’s pissing him off that Benny can just dismiss it like that. “Cas isn’t like that,” he snaps. “He wouldn’t be a dick about it. Some people just aren’t good enough for others.”

“Still sounds like a fuckhead thing to do.”

“He’s not a fuckhead.”

“So what you’re saying,” Benny says loudly, speaking over him. “Is that through no choice of Cas’ own, but because the universe has decided it, you wouldn’t be good enough for Castiel.”

“Exactly! I’m not even good enough for him right now, this is all some freak accident.”

Because it is, isn’t it? Seriously, who is Dean trying to fool? Cas is all artsy and he’s got that kickass dry wit and he pretends not to care about anything when he actually cares a fuckton. Dean is messy and considers it lucky if he gets through a whole conversation without swearing at least three times. He sleeps on his brother’s couch for god’s sake. And then there’s that whole thing where Dean has spent the majority of his life slumming it up and being a crappy person. There’s no way, out of all the people out there in the world, that Cas would have chosen him. No amount of good deeds is ever gonna be enough to deserve Cas. It’s only because of this fucking game show, where he doesn’t have much of a choice. Yeah Dean’s pretty good at sex, and he gets some laughs, so that should keep Cas around for a while, but as soon as he gets home, gets away from Dean, he’s going to realize what a mistake this was and be happy it’s all over. That Dean is out of his life.

“If you’re right and Cas isn’t a fuckhead,” Benny is saying. “Then he’d still probably choose you. You’re a good guy Dean. Someone I’d go out and have a beer with.”

Benny’s words aren’t reassuring at all. He doesn’t know him or Cas. He tried, but Dean’s got a sick feeling in his gut now, and it won’t go away no matter how much he concentrates on the mixing bowl in front of him. He wishes Cas were here, because no matter how much of a lie it is and how badly Dean will feel about it afterwards, Cas always manages to make him feel good just by being around.

“There beer in here? I’ll take you up on that offer right now.”

“Don’t think so,” Benny says, pulling the pot off the stove and draining it. Dean looks away because seriously, the queasy feeling he’s got going on needs to go away, stat. He resigns himself to grabbing two baking sheets and heading back to the counter.

Benny begins talking about Jo as Dean starts scooping dough out of the bowl and plopping it onto the baking sheets. He can’t help feeling a little envious of the obvious fondness in his voice. He doubts anybody’s ever talked about him like that. As Benny starts telling a story about Jo dealing with a customer at her bar that he can’t keep himself from laughing at, It’s clear how much he likes her, and Dean hopes they continue dating even when they’re done fooling around here.

“Are you making cookies?” Cas’ voice is tinged in amusement, and Dean is hit with a sudden wave of…not sadness really, but something close. From what Cas has told him about his childhood it doesn’t sound like he had many opportunities to enjoy himself, and that’s only emphasized by how happy he seems about something as simple as cookies. If nothing else, at least Dean can be remembered for his baking.

“Hey Cas,” Dean finds himself smiling at him. Cas looks tired and put off somehow, although he’s eyeing Dean with an interest that makes him wish Benny wasn’t here. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all, I’ve always wanted my own personal cookie boy,” Cas gives him his dumb half smile, and his eyes grow a little brighter.

Benny snorts from where he’s tossing his pasta in butter and olive oil and Cas glances at him. “Hello Benny.”

“Castiel.”

“How was your meeting with Crowley?” Dean asks, turning back to the counter. “What’d he want, anyway?”

“Just some stuff about promotional content,” Cas shrugs, coming up beside him. “I didn’t know you were in here, but I got lost trying to find the exit.”

"So you just gonna stand there and watch me?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what I was planning on doing.”

“Well you’re doing it wrong.”

“Damn,” Cas sighs. “I knew something was off.”

“Shut up,” Dean laughs. “You can’t just stand there awkwardly watching me, Cas. You gotta be relaxed.”

“How do I do that?”

“I dunno man. Loosen your posture or something. You always stand like you’ve gotta stick up your ass.”

Maybe it’s punishment for the comment, maybe Cas just decided he was going to read Dean’s comment as literally as possible. Either way, he’s still surprised when he feels arms circle his waist and a chin rest on his shoulder.

Cas brings a warmth and a pleasant smell Dean can’t really complain about, and although he shoots a look at Benny to make sure he’s not paying too much attention, he’s got no problem at all with the position. Dean will never admit it out loud (even on pain of death) but he likes physical contact.

Somehow, when he gets touched like someone actually gives a damn, all his problems seem really insignificant and stupid.

“What kind of cookies are you making?” Cas rumbles in his ear.

“Honey peanut butter,” Dean answers, catching himself leaning impulsively back into Cas and straightening again. “Here,” he hands him the spatula and Cas lets go of his waist to take it curiously. Dean pushes past Benny to put the cookies in the oven and notices him giving him a look. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Benny replies. “Just wondering how I ever thought you two could possibly be a couple.”

“You shut your mouth,” Dean mutters. If Sam were around he’d be getting so much crap. Dean hates chick flick moments. Hates them. Usually never in a million years would he let Cas rest on his shoulder like that in public. Except this one time he did, because he wanted to be touched, and no way was he gonna feel bad about that. He wasn’t. “You like the cookies, Cas?”

“They’re not finished yet.”

“You’re supposed to eat the dough dude.”

Cas squints at him and then at the spatula. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Safe as it was when you were a kid.”

“I was never given a spatula to eat off of as a child,” Cas shakes his head like he can’t fathom why he would want to, but Dean can only stare at him. His dad never made cookies either, but he at least knew what _cookie dough_ tasted like, for christ’s sake.

Dean reaches over and swipes a finger along the edge of the spatula, sticking it in his mouth. “Easy. See?” he asks around the finger.

“Yes,” Cas replies steadily, gazing at him.

Dean feels his ears begin to grow warm as Benny starts to hack up a lung behind him.

“I’m getting out of here,” he announces loudly. “The challenge starts at three, just make sure you two are back by then.”

“Uh huh,” Dean murmurs, finger still stuck in his mouth.

“Thank you, Benny. Good bye,” Cas says smoothly, and the door slams loudly. Dean would feel badly about kicking him out and ruining the whole hang out thing they had going on if Cas weren’t looking at him like he was covered in chocolate. “How long until your cookies are ready, Dean?”

“Uh…” Dean scrambles to find the correct answer, which is hard to do with those blue eyes eating away at what feels like his fucking soul. “Twenty minutes?”

“Good,” he breathes, slotting his hands against Dean’s hips and sliding him back into the counter. “Do you think you can keep from coming for that long? Can you do that for me Dean?”

Dean watches, wide eyed, as Cas sinks to his knees. Well he can sure as hell _try_.

Then again, everyone knows Dean Winchester is a failure.

***

If the sex were mediocre, Castiel probably would have had an easier time convincing himself there was nothing special about Dean Winchester.

Sex has defined his relationship with other people since high school, whether he was having it with them or not. If he wasn’t would he if it was offered? If they were having sex, for how long? Some quack with a master’s degree might suggest Castiel only had sex so much due to the problems with his father. With just sex, he doesn’t have to deal with emotions. While that all may be true, Castiel just happens to like sex. And not just for the obvious reasons. When someone is having sex with him, they are giving a part of themselves they’re not even fully aware of, and Castiel loves to watch it happen. The fascinating transfer of human thought into movement is something Castiel never grows tired of, and he has not once found someone who goes about sex the same exact way as anyone else. Even if it ends up being bad, at least it’s _different_.

Sex with Dean is so different it’s hard for him to even wrap his head around it. Dean, who usually hides so much of himself, is a wide open book for Castiel to read whenever he’s experiencing even an ounce of pleasure. Like he’s so unused to feeling it he can’t hide himself anymore. It makes Castiel a little sad to imagine Dean’s life, his time in jail, and why he looked surprised when Castiel had given him a blow job and refused anything in return. He’d known the second Dean suggested he relax that the other man probably wanted to be touched for some reason or another, and had played dumb for his benefit.

Dean was constantly surprising him, and was constantly showing him new things about himself. Castiel could learn so much about Dean without even talking to him. Then when Dean did talk, because he wanted to purposely share something with Castiel, it tasted a million times sweeter. It’s the only reason Castiel could think of for why he was so fascinated with Dean.

Once he’d spent a day at Mass Moca up in the Berkshires. There had been a whole sectioned off area of a couple of floors filled with walls painted with abstract art. One wall would be a full of circles, the next lines, one black and white and one the color of the rainbow. There had been one wall with nothing on it at all. Each turn had brought him to a new experience, and somehow Castiel knew there was a pattern, that they were all connected, but he hadn’t understood how. He had spent hours walking through that exhibit, always finding a new wall he didn’t remember seeing from before and only leaving at closing time.

Dean reminded him of those rooms at Mass Moca, and Castiel had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving him until he was forced to, either.

They’re in a field for the challenge again, and Castiel is beginning to wonder how many of them there are around here. It’s possible it was one of the same ones they’d been in before, they all looked so mind-numbingly similar to one another. Castiel is going to leave Costa Rica and never dream about anything but green fields with tall grass ever again.

Gabriel is there on time again, but Castiel is fairly certain it’s only so he can blast the music he’s playing right now – something about starships and not paying rent. He doesn’t mind it all that much, but Dean is standing next to him looking physically pained by the entire experience.

“This crap should be illegal,” Dean mutters. “Buddy Holly is rolling over in his grave right now.”

“I think Buddy Holly would be happy people are enjoying music.”

“Shaddup Cas. You would like this stuff.”

Castiel shrugs. “I guess bad bitches like me are hard to come by.”

He watches with satisfaction as Dean’s face breaks into a startled grin, accompanied with a loud bark of laughter.

The music cuts off abruptly and Bobby yells action before Gabriel can say anything. Either Bobby is learning how to deal with Gabriel or he’s almost as fed up as Castiel is with this show.

“Fine, fun’s over,” Gabriel mutters, spreading his arms wide. For the first time it registers to Castiel that he’s dressed in a hideous orange Hawaiian print shirt and flip flops, a far cry from his usual neutral colored clothes. “Aloha compadres! I know we’re not in Hawaii but hey, we can all dream right? Honolulu’s one of the stops on that world tour you’re all gunning for, so you might as well get used to what you’ll be seeing. I know most of you are disappointed I didn’t go the nude beach ensemble route, but you can always come to my cabin if you want to learn more about it.” He winks at Sam, who’s standing right in front of him, and Sam rolls his eyes and looks away.

"Today’s challenge is all about communication, which is probably important for a long term relationship. Instead of just following a map, you guys have been provided with walkie talkies. One of you is going to stay here and read the map, giving directions for their partner to find three objects hidden somewhere in the forest behind me. Once you’ve got all three, follow the directions to move on to the next part of the challenge. As always, your reward for coming in first will be a night at the Oasis,” Gabriel grins broadly at that, “Ask Dean and Cas about their experience, they’ll tell you how to make the best of it.”

Castiel glances at Dean and sees his jaw clenched. He’d realized early on that they must have been caught on camera when they had sex, and he doesn’t know why he’d thought anybody here would have the decency not to watch the entire thing.

“They missed our best performance so far,” he says softly, leaning closer to Dean, and Dean shoots him a pained look.

“Gabriel’s seen my ass,” he whispers, sounding mildly horrified.

“I’m sure the viewing was followed by several hours of existential crisis and was concluded with a spiritual awakening. He probably worships it now.”

“Stop talking about my ass.”

“Even about how tight it is?” Castiel asks innocently.

“I swear to god, Cas…”

Gabriel clears his throat loudly, and Dean’s attention snaps back to him. “Try to pay attention to something other than Casablanca there, got it Deano?” Castiel glares when Gabriel smirks at him, since he’d been listening to his prattle while talking to Dean and knew he hadn’t said anything too important.

“Alright, now that the two love birds are done yapping,” Gabriel raises an eyebrow at all of them. “Go.”

The first person to figure out what’s going on is Balthazar, whom Castiel hears tell Bela to “stay,” and takes off into the forest. Dean picks up on it not five seconds after Balthazar sets of, bending and pulling two walkie talkies from the backpack at their feet and handing one to Cas. “I’ll navigate,” he says firmly. “Something else I got experience with.”

Castiel doesn’t question him, instead heading off into the trees. Meg and Benny have also disappeared, and when Cas looks around he finds Luke right next to him.

“Do you always do everything you’re asked to do?” Luke asks, fiddling with the dial of his walkie talkie. The question has a genuine air of interest about it, but Castiel can’t shake the feeling that Luke is mocking him somehow.

Castiel switches his set on, waiting for Dean’s voice to come crackling through the speaker. “I trust Dean. You must trust Sam as well.”

Luke hums noncommittally and nods behind Castiel. “Looks like the lumberjack has found something.”

Benny is emerging from behind a group of trees carrying two deflated inner tubes, his walkie talkie held to his ear. Castiel is about to suggest Luke go away and follow him instead when Dean’s voice comes pouring through the walkie talkie in his hand. “Cas? You hear me?”

“Yes Dean,” Castiel replies, a little put off by how Luke is obviously listening. “Where do you want me to go?”

“Alright, so you’re at the edge of the forest and the field, right? First one should be easy, just take a left at a big rock, there should be a clump of weird looking trees the first item is behind.”

Turns out the area Dean is talking about it exactly where Benny had just come from. Castiel leaves Luke, who’s now speaking to Sam over his own walkie, and tramps off the path, crushing plants under his hiking boots until he reaches a small clearing where the inner tubes are laying. He’s about to take two when he realizes there are four sets left – Meg hasn’t gotten hers yet. Sighing, he leans against a tree and brings the walkie talkie to his lips. “Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t find them,” he says glumly, just as Luke emerges from the trees. Luckily he doesn’t say anything, just shoots Castiel a mockingly confused look before he grabs his own inner tubes and leaves.

“Are you sure?” the walkie talkie crackles around Dean’s words. “You turned left?”

“I think so,” Castiel says emotionally, shifting uncomfortably. He wishes Meg would just get here already so he can stop lying. Part of him wants to believe she’s taking this long on purpose because she knows Crowley’s told him to lose, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Luke and Benny are both ahead of her, and Castiel doubts Crowley had thought to have chats with them. Which is a shame, because Castiel would love to sit in on any meeting between Crowley and Luke.

“You think so? Cas, do me a favor and make an ‘L’ with both your hands. You turned towards the one facing forward, didn’t you?”

Castiel’s trying to think of a viable response (he’s actually a little insulted Dean’s buying the stupid act, but thinking he was lying would be even more absurd, so he forgives him) when Meg finally appears, scooping her inner tubes up slowly enough that Cas gets a good view of her ass.

“Aw Clarence, thanks for waitin’,” she coos. “I’ve got a run, but I’ll see you later, alright?” with a sickeningly sweet smile, she gives him a little wave and hurries off back towards the path.

Castiel pushes himself off the tree and grabs his inner tubes, pressing the talk button on the walkie talkie to interrupt Dean’s constant stream of directions intermingled with the occasional swear. “I found them Dean.”

"I’m getting you a fucking compass for Christmas,” Dean growls. “Go back to the path and travel down it about thirty yards. The second item should be just off the path.”

Castiel moves quickly to follow the rest of Dean’s instructions, picking up first an air pump – presumably to inflate the inner tubes – and then a journal. He ends up at the edge of the river with Luke again as he waits for Dean to meet him.

Meg and Ruby are in first place,” Luke offers in a bored tone of voice. Sure enough, Castiel can see Meg and Ruby paddling on their inner tubes a good way down the river, although Benny and Jo don’t seem too far behind.     

"I supposed you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel asks, turning back to Luke.

Luke shrugs at him. “Just going through all the possible reasons you could have for resting against a tree during a competition. Although sleep deprivation wouldn’t be an excuse to lie to your little friend.” He frowns, tapping the tip of his finger against his lips. “Was he a bad fuck? What a waste. I hope that’s not genetic.”

“It’s none of your business, Luke.”

“You’re obviously doing something to mess with the challenge,” Luke points out, eyes flashing. “So actually, Castiel, it’s very much my business.”

Castiel’s had enough practice in his life keeping quiet to be able to easily do so now, and he ignores Luke in favor of checking that the inner tubes are blown up correctly. Luckily Sam and Dean show up before Luke is able to truly start laying into him. Castiel can worry about what he might do later on, when he’s not so focused on doing what Crowley wants.

Crowley hadn’t forbidden him from telling Dean about what’s going on, and he’d planned on doing so right away, but Castiel is a little worried about how the other man will react. Dean has a tendency to blame himself for most things, and he definitely doesn’t take kindly to people dictating his life.

Castiel pushes the inner tubes into the water and climbs into his without saying anything to Dean, waiting until the other man is situated before he begins paddling, leaving Sam and Luke behind. Sam is struggling to fit in his tube and Luke can’t seem to do anything but grin in amusement at him.

“Hey, uh, Cas.”

“What?” Cas asks. Paddling with his arms isn’t as effective as he’d like it to be, and he wishes they could swim instead. At least there was some dignity in swimming.

Dean doesn’t say anything, and Cas glances over at him. He’s looking down at the water as he paddles, face pensive like he’s working himself up to say something. Finally he raises his head. “Sorry for being a dick earlier,” he says shortly. “I musta been reading the map wrong.”

Oh fuck. No. This is the exact opposite of what Cas had wanted. How could he make Dean understand none of this was his fault? He didn’t want to in the middle of a challenge, with at least three cameras pointing at them. Regardless of that fact that Crowley would be forced to cut any conversation having to do with his scam, this is something Castiel would rather tell Dean in relative privacy. So instead he says, “I didn’t go left.”

Dean looks incredibly skeptical but doesn’t pursue the matter, rolling out of his inner tube and sloshing through the last couple of feet of water to the shore. “What else did you have to grab?”

Cas hands him the journal and Dean skims through it quickly, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Really? Crowley’s hitting the Indiana Jones a little hard, isn’t he?”

“If those movies are just full of a man doing what we’re doing right now, why do I have to see them?”

“Because,” Dean explains patiently. “Indy is looking for treasure to stop the Nazis. Plus he’s the only guy who can pull off a fedora and still manage to look like a badass instead of a complete tool.”

“Ah,” Castiel nods sagely. “So he’s attractive.”

“Only the best for you, Cas,” Dean grins, clapping him on the shoulder. It’s not long before they reach the patch of quicksand the journal had mentioned, and Dean shakes his head in disgust at it. There are three scrolls left hanging from vines above the pit, one of which they will need to grab to be able to continue. “How the hell are we going to get through this?”

“How does Indiana do it?”

“No,” Dean puts a hand over his face. “It’s Indy or Indiana Jones, Cas. His name isn’t Indiana.”

Purely to be an ass, Castiel asks, “What is his name?”

“Henry,” he replies, hand running over his scruff as he surveys the quicksand pit.

“So why is he called Indiana?”

“I’m going to push you in.”

Cas smiles at him. “That’s not a reaction you should have to not knowing the answer, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks mildly. “Well when I fuck you tonight I’m gonna call you Indiana, and we’ll see if you still care he’s called that for no reason.”

Castiel falls abruptly silent, because honestly, in a strange and interesting way the idea is definitely not one he’s opposed to.

"Hey, can you get on my shoulders?”

“Tonight?” Castiel asked, trying to figure out how that would work. Unless Dean wanted him facing forward, instead of to his back…

“No, you perv. What would we even…” Dean trails off and shakes his head. Castiel hopes the same thought had entered his mind, because sit on Dean’s face has just been added to his list of ‘Things To Do Before the Show Ends’. “I mean right now. If I brace myself against this tree I think you’ll be able to reach. Then we won’t have to waste time going through this stuff.”

“Are you sure you can lift me?” Castiel asks skeptically. No doubt Dean is strong, but Castiel knows from experience he‘s heavier than he looks.

Dean however, looks insulted at the suggestion, and bends down in response. “Climb on.”

Cas winks at him, studying his shoulders as Dean scowls. They’re very broad and he doesn’t think he’ll have any trouble sitting comfortably on them. The only problem is getting on – he’s never done this before and isn’t sure how it works.

“Seriously Cas, just climb on. If I complain about your junk in my face now I got issues.”

“You just can’t wait for me to sit on you, can you?”

“God Cas, do we have to talk about my kinks here? Get on already!”

Cas sighs, realizing he can’t hold it off any longer. He drops the backpack to the ground and clambers awkwardly onto Dean, almost losing his balance more than once and grabbing on to Dean’s hair. When he’s finally situated, the brownish blonde strands are sticking straight up in some places and smashed down in others. Castiel wishes he had a camera.

“Graceful,” Dean tells him, carefully lifting himself off the ground. He uses the trunk of the tree beside them to keep himself upright, and Castiel can feel the strain of his muscles beneath his legs.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks guilelessly, shifting a little.

Dean quickly shifts to accommodate him, grunting out, “No.”

“It’s alright to admit I am. Often animals overestimate their strength while performing mating rituals.”

“Will you get the damn scroll Cas?”

Cas pats the top of his head, careful not to flatten any of his hair so he can see it when he gets down, and stretches as far as he can, just barely reaching the edge of a scroll to pull towards him. Dean dumps him none too carefully as soon as he can, and Cas is happy to see he doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty about it. He enjoys seeing Dean’s softer side, but would prefer it didn’t always emerge because Dean is convinced he’s done something wrong. Having a cocky Dean that can go toe to toe with him both in and outside the bedroom, with occasional bouts of emotional honesty, would be perfectly acceptable to Castiel.

He just can’t deal with the heavy emotional baggage. He’s no good at handling it.

Dean takes the scroll impatiently from him and unrolls it, providing Cas an excellent picture of contrast, with the look of intense concentration on his face and his half flattened, half sticking up hair.

“What are you smiling at?”

“I’m not smiling.”

“Well not like a normal person,” Dean squints at him and folds the scroll back up. “But you’re doing a Cas smile. With your eyes an’ shit.

“Anyway, this thing says we hafta go down to the beach. There’s a green pole down there and we gotta dig up a wooden chest somewhere within fifty feet of it.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“So what do you think the odds are that we’re not just digging up an empty chest for Gabriel and Crowley’s own sadistic amusement?”

“Slim to none,” Castiel agrees. “Although somehow I doubt Crowley and Gabriel get along very well.” Although Gabriel seems like he would have no trouble exploiting people for his own gain, Castiel doubts he would appreciate how blunt Crowley was about it. Whatever game he’s playing with Bobby has proven a preference for slow manipulation, not outright blackmail and demands.

“Is having insight on people an artist thing?” Dean asks curiously. “I’m good at reading tells and finding lies, but I couldn’t tell you the first thing about what Gabriel eats for breakfast. Bet you could.”

“I like to know people before I draw them,” Cas says. The forest has dumped them out on the beach, and Castiel can see the green pole already, the sand around it already destroyed from the first two teams’ digging. “I think Gabriel likes maple syrup.”

“So you know me pretty well,” Dean says casually. He’s looking down at the sand, counting out fifty steps from the pole and scuffing his boot into the ground to mark it off. Finding a spot relatively untouched, he kneels and begins digging through it.

Castiel wonders what Dean is getting at. He might burst into laughter if Dean wants a drawing. Half of his sketchbook is filled with some aspect of Dean, which is why he’s been so careful not to show it on camera. He makes a mental note not to watch this show anywhere near Inias. When Inias kills him, Castiel wants it to be spectacular death, not one caused by being stabbed with a swizzle stick on his manager’s couch. “I know you as well as you want me to know you,” he finally settles on saying, walking away from Dean to go find a spot of his own to dig in.

Dean lets out a wordless shout just as Luke and Sam are making their way over, and Castiel joins him to haul their chest out of the ground. Thankfully (or not, since they have to carry it) it doesn’t seem to be empty, though since they won’t be coming in first Castiel doubts they’ll get to see what’s inside it.

Gabriel confirms this when they dump the trunk at his feet at the finish line, though Castiel thinks he makes too big a deal over what is, for all he and Dean know, a chest full of rocks. “You’ll get ‘em next time kids,” Gabriel says sympathetically. “I’m rooting for you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Dean smirks at him.

“Well, we don’t want any of the little ones to feel left out.”

“I’m sure they appreciate support from one of their own,” Castiel cuts in. “We’ll see you tomorrow night at the ceremony?”

Gabriel waves them off. “Yeah, yeah. You two go off and have your totally PG rated fun.”

To Castiel’s disgust, Meg is waiting for him much in the same manner Castiel had waited for Dean all those challenges ago. Except his intentions had been good-natured. He seriously doubts that Meg’s are. At least Dean’s hand isn’t down his pants this time around.

“Hey Clarence,” Meg drawls, twirling a piece of her dark hair around her finger. “Thanks for waitin’ for me back there. I’ll be thinking of you at the Oasis tonight.”

“Please don’t,” Castiel says, his voice sounding pained even to his own ears.

“Too bad,” she sighs. “We shouldn’t have done what we did behind that cabin, Clarence. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I put you in a chokehold.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she winks at him. “I’ve gotta go catch a car. I’ll see you tomorrow, angel,” She gives Dean a pointed wave and turns on her heel, heading back in the direction they had just exited the challenge from.

“What the hell was that?” Dean demands.

He looks angry, and though Castiel is sure it’s because he dislikes Meg, some small part of him can’t keep from wondering if maybe Dean could be jealous. He almost hopes he is. Because somehow his pathetic life has expanded to include caring about Dean Winchester’s feelings.

“Cas? What the fuck does she mean, you waited for her?”

Castiel frowns, trying to figure out what to say. “Finding the inner tubes weren’t your fault. I found them right away.”

"So what, you lied to me?” Dean asks roughly, staring at Castiel in confusion. Castiel can detect the slight bit of hurt in his eyes Dean is keeping a tight rein on, and he struggles with the explanation.

“I had to let Meg win,” he says, moving closer to Dean. “Crowley wants her to choose me at the Ceremony and have me as a partner to the finale. He’s controlling the way the show goes.”

Dean, instead of reacting with anger towards Crowley like Castiel had expected, glares daggers at him. “And what, you decided to just leave me hanging? When was I gonna find out Cas, at the Ceremony tomorrow night?”

“No,” Castiel speaks quickly, shaking his head. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you without worrying you.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic job, Cas. This is really a load off of my shoulders now,” Dean says sarcastically, folding his arms. “So what do you want me to do?”

He stares at him blankly. “What?”

“You wanna be Crowley’s puppet, or do you want to keep doing this thing we’re doing? I’m telling you right now, this would be the opportunity to get away.”

"I don’t _want_ to get away,” Castiel growls, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Sometime during the conversation he and Dean had gravitated closer together, his face near to Dean’s.

“Yeah?” Dean snaps. “Well I don’t either!”

Castiel kisses him then, because Dean needs to stop talking. He needs to stop saying things that worm their way under Castiel’s skin and itch and itch until all he can do is draw, and even then drawing only soothes the feeling, never heals it or stops it from flaring up again at the worst moments.

Dean pulls back, keeps close enough so that his nose still nudges Castiel’s on every exhale. “It’s cool,” he says quietly. “We can figure this out. But you have to tell me things, Cas. Make sense to you?”

He looks down to where Dean’s hand is resting casually on his hip, and stares at the stark contrast of the tanned freckled skin against his white T-shirt. He remembers the handprint still seared into Dean’s shoulder, how in the dark of the night he can fit his hand so easily and perfectly into that space, and how Dean allows him to.

“Yeah,” he says. “It makes sense.”

***

Dean hasn’t really been around the veranda at regular mealtimes. Mostly he’s been picking up food early or late, and he mostly manages to avoid everyone. Weirdly enough, now that there are less people, it’s getting harder and harder to keep away from them, and that night he finds himself eating at a table with Sam, everyone else still around gathered around them. Cas had been complaining about an itch and denied Dean’s offer of aloe vera, choosing to go off somewhere on his own, and Dean had no clue (nor did he care) where Luke was. Sam seems unconcerned, but then Sam also seems convinced Luke makes a perfectly acceptable partner, so Dean’s not sure how much credit to give him.

“How are you still alive?” he asks as soon as his brother sits down. Tonight the food seemed to be barbeque themed, the tables piled high with corn on the cob, coleslaw, steak and ribs. Dean probably wasn’t going to have the appetite to eat everything he’d piled onto his plate, but at least he was going to try. It boggled his mind that Sam, who’s at least three times his size, refuses to eat what surely has to be his fill.

Maybe if Dean started leaving books about the eating habits of carnivorous dinosaurs around the house, Sam would get the hint.

Sam just raises an eyebrow at Dean’s plate in return. “You know the two thousand to three thousand calories a day thing is the limit, not a suggestion, right?”

“Limits are for people with no imagination, Sammy,” Dean smiles at him and shoves some coleslaw in his mouth, vowing to eat everything piled on his plate even if it kills him. “Don’t give me crap. I exercised today.”

“I’m not sure I’d call that challenge exercising,” Sam says skeptically. “You came in a leisurely third anyway.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Fourth Place.”

“Doesn’t matter, since unlike you I actually do exercise.”

Dean stabs his knife into his steak and begins sawing viciously at it. “Why the hell are we talking about this?”

“I don’t know Dean,” Sam frowns. “You started it.”

“Well now I’m ending it.”

A concerned look crosses Sam’s face, and usually Dean would run the second he saw it coming, except he kind of wants Sam to know what’s bothering him. Sam was always coming up with the plans when they were kids, doing research and prompting dad to name him their ‘most valuable asset’. Classic and simple had always been Dean’s approach to jobs, and that only ever caught John’s attention when it didn’t work. He could really use Sam’s help with this whole Crowley thing, but asking for help sucks. It’s easier to just get Sam to offer it. Besides that, Sam’s been feeling guilty for no reason ever since Dean’s jail time, and he really doesn’t want to ask and have it seem like he’s using that against Sam when he’s not. The kid just won’t stop blaming himself for Dean’s shit.

“What’s up, Dean?” Sam asks carefully, spearing a green bean on his fork. “Everything good with you and Cas?”

“There is no me and Cas,” Dean says automatically. “But yeah, something’s up.”

Sam snorts and looks smug, although Dean has no idea what convoluted thing he’d just had proven to himself. “Sure Dean. What is it then? I can give you advice on how to be honest to god friends with him instead of just temporary friends with benefits.”

"Uh...” Dean says slowly. Geez, when was the last time he’d seen Sam? At least two days ago, right? Yet it’s felt like a lifetime since he and Cas started playing fast and loose with each other, like the months of build up needed for Dean to ask Cassie out had been shoved into a week with Cas. Luckily Sam is a smart guy, and Dean doesn’t have to say anything else before a look of vaguely horrified realization is dawning on his face.

“You have a really hard time keeping it in your pants, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well it can be hard to do when everybody is just dying for me to whip it out,” Dean shoots back.

“Dear lord in heaven,” Sam closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sky. “If I ever ask my brother to whip it out, for any reason, please strike me down where I stand. Amen.”

“Ha ha,” Dean says dryly. “If you die of anything when my dick comes out, it’ll be feelings of inadequacy.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “So really, what’s the problem? You don’t wanna hang out anymore? Cas tell you he loves you? What?”

Dean, who’s poised and ready to start yelling about Crowley the second Sam ends his guessing game, says blankly and without thinking, “Cas doesn’t love me.”

“I know that,” Sam says slowly, but not like Dean is dumb, more like he’s trying to talk him off the ledge. “I was kidding.”

“Oh,” Dean says, not sure how he feels about that. “He was keeping stuff from me earlier, so yeah, he definitely doesn’t…that’s stupid.”

“Dean, relax. Cas isn’t in love with you, alright? Sorry I freaked you and your phobia of emotions out.”

“You didn’t freak me out,” Dean mutters. “Was just saying how dumb it is.”

Sam sighs, wearing his my-brother-is-ridiculous-why-do-I-put-up-with-this face. “So, you’re upset because Cas didn’t tell you something?”

“Yeah – well no,” Dean explains, studying a piece of steak before deciding it’s small enough to chew and putting it in his mouth. “We worked through that.” At the table next to theirs Jo and Benny are leaning close together, speaking in low voices. Dean wonders how Jo had liked her picnic. Benny was probably going to get laid tonight, lucky bastard.

Fuck Meg and Crowley. Tonight was probably the last night Dean would get to spend with Cas.

“You actually worked through a conflict?” Sam gives a dramatic gasp. “With words?”

“Shut up Sam. I’m not five.” Dean stares at his soda. This no alcohol rule is slowly killing him. Whose idea was it to keep the show about dating dry? “Cas and I got an issue. That executive producer douche Crowley is splitting him and me up.”

“What?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “Because he’s a rich asshole who likes to watch us dance? Who knows, man? Meg’s gonna choose Cas at the ceremony tomorrow night and he says we gotta stay apart for the rest of the show.”

“Oh…kay,” Sam sounds out. “That kind of sucks Dean, but it’s not the end of the world. A lot of reality TV shows are scripted. Once the show is over you and Cas can do whatever you want to do.”

“Well actually,” Dean starts, and Sam looks to the sky again, like he’s praying for real this time. “Cas and I got this agreement. We’re only doing what we’re doing while the show is going on.”

“And you both agreed to this,” Sam says flatly.

“Yeah,” Dean says defensively. “And maybe I don’t want Cas to go on a trip around the world with that bitch Meg. Maybe I wanna go with him. Did you think of that?”

“I didn’t think of it Dean, and you know why? Because obviously you’re not taking this very seriously,” Sam says sharply.

"I’m taking this seriously Sam, alright? Help me out with this Crowley thing and I can leave you alone to do your weird mating ritual with Luke.”

“Kind of hard for you to leave me alone when you’re living in my apartment.”

“I’ve been thinking about moving out,” Dean presses, and Sam looks at him in surprise. “Seriously, Sam. It’s time for me to get off my ass. I’m tired of your hair clogging up the shower drain anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Dean nods. “I’m just asking for your help with this one. If this is all I’m gonna see of Cas, I wanna make the most of it.”

Sam puts down his fork and looks at Dean very seriously. “Have you thought about maybe not restricting your time with Cas to the show? You and Cas could keep…hanging out or whatever. Afterwards.”

If Dean’s going to be honest with himself, the idea had crossed his mind when Cas told him what Crowley was planning. Yeah Cas lived in Boston and he lived in Kansas, but it’s not like they couldn’t text or use Skip or whatever it is Sam is always using to video chat with all his nerd friends. Dean likes Cas enough to have a conversation with him. Sure there’d be no sex, but he’d get over it, find other people to fool around with and distract him, and meanwhile he and Cas could continue to watch all the movies Cas hadn’t seen. Dean could finally show him some of the furniture he’d made, maybe Cas would show him some paintings. They could be friends.

But Cas hadn’t wanted that. He’s the one who suggested they part ways after the show. Dean’s not gonna embarrass himself by being way more eager than Cas is. And as much as he likes the idea of being friends, there’s still this weird feeling in his chest whenever he thinks about it, like he’s missing something. Like being friends with Cas isn’t going to cut it.

Then there’s the reality show effect. No matter how much Cas likes him here, it could be a very different story out there in the real world. It’ll take about two seconds for Cas to figure out how much he doesn’t want to spend time on Dean.

“No,” he says firmly. “This is what works best.”

"Alright, Dean,” Sam says. His voice is resigned, like he’s given up on trying to fix Dean. Dean sympathizes. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll help if this is really what you want. You’ve done loads of shit for me, if all you want in return is a couple of days with Cas, I can get behind it.”

Dean beams and stands up with his empty plate, which he had managed to clear without even noticing. Clapping his brother on the back, he salutes, “Thanks Private Winchester. You make your country proud.”

Sam breaks off a piece of roll from his plate and nails him in the forehead with it.

***

Castiel’s college roommate might have disagreed with him, but he still maintains that he doesn’t actively go looking for trouble. He simply manages to always be in whatever area has the highest concentration of assholes at any given moment. Castiel can’t stand assholes, so you can guess how that usually turns out.        

Perhaps he was some sort of magnet. An asshole magnet. He should package it and sell it. For science.

“Heading to the ceremony?” Castiel thinks perhaps part of the reason Dean doesn’t like Luke is because he’s so smooth. He manages to slip into conversations unseen, whereas Dean barrels his way through any obstacles. Castiel can respect Luke, and as someone often accused of being too quiet, he doesn’t mind him. While Castiel is happy to hang in the background, Luke, once he’s situated within a group, often takes command, quietly and with ease. Another thing that must bother Dean, a natural born leader.

“Yes,” Cas says simply, glancing at Luke. Luke seems content to walk alongside him, studying the forest as they head over to the pavilion. Really, the only thing that bothers Castiel about Luke is that Dean is so bothered by him.

“So,” says Luke easily, “I would suggest giving Meg orders. She enjoys being told what to do. Of course, with your voice you may just be able to talk about Plato’s Theory and she’ll still be occupied.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s obvious you’re carrying a torch for her. My heart acts for poor Dean of course, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. Bela seemed willing to give him a try.”

Luke’s game is indifference, and the only way to play on his level is to match his attitude. “I’m not interested in Meg,” Castiel says coolly. “I’d remain with Dean if I could.”

Luke shrugs, his face a perfect facsimile of sympathetic. “Next time.”

“Unfortunately no,” he answers, and because it’s not a secret and he doesn’t care enough to keep it one, he continues, “Crowley has decided Dean and I shouldn’t be partnered anymore.”

“Oh?” Luke asks, looking faintly surprised. “How unfair of him.”

“Yes,” Castiel says again, and he expects that to be the end of the conversation. Luke, he can tell, has gotten whatever information he’d originally wanted, and now it remained to be seen what he was going to do with it.

What he doesn’t expect is what Luke says a few moments later. “I believe I can help you.”

They’ve reached the pavilion, where most everyone else is milling around, ignoring the cameras like always. Castiel doesn’t see Dean, but that’s not surprising. He often gets into fights with wardrobe and whatever poor PA has been assigned to him before the ceremony. Honestly Castiel thinks if they left him alone instead of bugging him he’d dress up all on his own, since he seemed to like it and only refused to be contrary. But if Dean was having fun he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Why would you want to help?” Castiel questions. “I’m not going to give anything to you.”

“I can get anything I want on my own,” Luke says icily. “I only do things I want to do. Feel free to say no, Castiel. I’m not offering you a deal with the devil.”

Castiel could say no, and he and Dean would part ways right now. It might make it easier on everyone involved if they kept their interaction condensed to these two days. Or he could cut his losses here, get back into contact with Dean when the show is over, and they could continue their relationship then.

Dean made it fairly clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and Castiel doesn’t see how he could have changed that.

He’s not ready to give Dean up. If the only way to spend time with him is while they’re on Love in the Wild, then he wants to.

“Fine,” he tells Luke, “I’d appreciate your help.”

Dean, without a doubt, is the type to pick a fight. If someone deserves to be punched in the face, he’s going to punch ‘em in the face. That’s the way his world has always worked, and it works well.

Dean has yet to figure out how to handle Meg, who certainly acts like someone Dean would normally punch in the face. Dean doesn’t fight people who don’t look like they fight back, and worse than that, Meg is _sneaky_. It’s totally possible she’s fantastic at karate, and then Dean is going to get his ass kicked. He likes fights, but he likes fights that are fair.

Dean swears Meg was waiting for him to head off the pavilion. She won’t fucking leave him alone. He did not ask for this.

“I know it’s going to be hard to stay away from Clarence,” Meg is saying, “And I don’t care.” She smiles. “You can do whatever you want with him, as long as you remember that I’m gonna be the one who gets to have his nights.”

“How’s that gonna help you?” Dean asks gruffly. “I think Cas would rather sleep in the shower.”

“He might tell you that, but I think in bed he’ll be singing a different tune.”         

Dean glowers at the ground, because looking at her is just going to piss him off even more. “How’s it feel knowing you have to force Cas to partner up with you?”

“Pretty damn good,” Meg sounds smug, and thankfully the grass at Dean’s feet turns to clay mosaic as they hit the edge of the pavilion.

“Well,” he says, finally looking up. Meg has her hair curled, and her eyes are rimmed with make-up. His lip curls a little as he realizes she must have dressed up for the occasion. “It was really horrible talking to you Meg. Let’s not do this again.”

Meg laughs at him. “Whatever makes you feel better, Dean-o,” she purrs, and thankfully leaves him alone.

Dean wishes he was at a bar.

Cas watches Dean fume in the entranceway to the pavilion. He doesn’t look like he wants to come in yet, which is fine, but he hopes Meg hadn’t said anything too horrible to him. The last thing he needed was her putting ideas in Dean’s head.

“Hey,” Sam says quietly, leaning over to speak to Castiel. “Dean told me about your problem, and I said I’d try to help.”

“Luke offered as well,” Castiel says, nodding at Luke, who is sitting next to Cas. Luke doesn’t turn from where he’s facing front, but Castiel knows he can hear them, and is listening.

"Oh,” Sam shoots Luke a confused look. “Well ok, then. I’ve got, uh, kind of a background in digging around in people’s pasts—“

“I know,” Castiel cuts him off. “Dean told me.”

“He did?”

"Yes,” he frowns. “And also that he was sent to juvenile prison, although I’m unsure of the details.”

A myriad of emotions crosses Sam’s face, from confusion to contemplation to finally a strange sort of knowing look. “Well,” Sam says. “You find that out for me and let me know what he says. I think we’ll have a different idea of how things happened.”

Castiel privately thinks he’ll have to get Dean drunk again before he’ll say anything else about it, but Sam has renewed his curiosity. Not just about Dean’s time in jail, but about all things Dean. How he turned his life around, how he became a carpenter, and what he wants to continue to do with his life.

Jody yells for them all to settle down, and Bobby orders them into position. Dean slides down next to Castiel, his thigh warm and pressed against Cas’ own. He’s vibrating slightly, out of nerves or impatience, and Castiel places a steady palm on his leg.

“Another day, another challenge!” Gabriel announces. “We’re closing in on the end here, kiddies. Meg, Ruby, how was the Oasis? Learn anything?”

“Flexibility,” Ruby tells him, and Balthazar lets out a delighted laugh from behind Castiel.

“Nice and subtle Ruby,” Gabriel deadpans. “Both of you come on down here. Remember, if you decide to split up, whomever you choose has to say yes to you.” He waits until Ruby and Meg have situated themselves next to him before raising an eyebrow at Meg. “So? Was Ruby any good at being flexible?”

“Sure was,” Meg says lazily. “But I think I’m gonna have to switch it up tonight. Clarence needs to come down here and join me.”

“Cas?” Gabriel asks, so surprised he forgets to butcher Castiel’s name. “Uh. Ok. Come down and join Meg, Castiel.”

Castiel, though not usually difficult on purpose, finds himself unwilling to comply to Meg so easily. “I didn’t hear my name called.”

Gabriel grins, and Meg’s lips curl up in a sneer before she spits out, “Castiel.”

Castiel sighs dramatically and heaves himself off the bench, making no secret of how much he doesn’t want to do this. He feels Dean pull him back and turns, expecting Dean to kiss him. He’s sure Dean almost does, but then his resolve wavers, his eyes roving to a camera located at the head of the pavilion, and instead he pats Cas awkwardly on the cheek. “Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, letting him join Meg.

Meg takes his arm, which Castiel endures, but he lets go of her as soon as they’ve made it to the matched couple’s area, staying as far away from her as possible.

“So, Ruby?” Gabriel asks after he’s watched the proceedings with interest. “Who’s your choice?”

Ruby shrugs. “No one. I’m taking myself out of here.”

“Oh no,” Gabriel says, and Castiel doesn’t think he could have sounded any less sympathetic if he tried. “No one here capture your fancy?”

“That’s right,” Ruby says, and she doesn’t seem too bothered either as she takes herself to the unmatched area. Castiel has to wonder if this is part of Crowley’s plan all along, which may explain why Ruby clearly doesn’t care. Bribes can be very effective. The only reason he can think that Crowley wouldn’t have gotten Ruby to partner up with Dean is because Dean is not so easily controlled and wouldn’t have cooperated with her partnership at all.

Benny and Jo of course choose to stay together, and then Dean is called up to the front. Castiel knows it will be an easy choice, and isn’t surprised when Dean asks Bela to join him and Bela agrees. Refusing would have gotten her kicked out, since she’d come in last, and from what Dean had told him about Bela, she seems very competitive.

Luke and Sam remain together with little fanfare, and Balthazar is sent to the unmatched area with Ruby.

“Sorry guys,” Gabriel sighs. “Both of you had long term partners and couldn’t keep them, but that’s love for you, huh? I hope you two find it elsewhere, because it sure ain’t here.”

Balthazar grins cheekily at Gabriel, mouthing ‘call me’, and Gabriel winks in response before both of them were shuffled out of the pavilion.

"See Clarence?” Meg sing songs. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Quick and painless.”

Castiel wishes.


	9. Chapter 8

Castiel supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Balthazar doesn’t follow the rules. He’d managed to slip away from Meg by claiming various bullshit things he doesn’t remember but seem to have worked, hoping he can somehow get Dean off camera so he can tell him about Luke’s offer. Instead, he’s run into Balthazar, who clearly isn’t taking Gabriel’s joking calls of “get off my island!” when the camera had stopped rolling very seriously.

Balthazar also, in typical Balthazar fashion, is being completely overdramatic about the entire thing. “Cassie!” he hisses sharply, beckoning Castiel over to his hiding spot. Which is behind a tree, not that he’s judging him for his lack of creativity or anything.

Castiel can’t help being amused though, and he’s sure it shows on his face. “You don’t have to hide, you know,” he says, ducking under a low hanging branch.

“I wasn’t sure if you were still with Meg,” Balthazar says, shuddering. “Awful girl. Do you know she called me a bottle blonde?”

“Are you?” Castiel asks, eyeing his hair.

"Please Castiel, my own mother believes this is my natural hair color. Let’s not go investigating things that are better left secret.”

He’s almost forgotten how much he’d actually enjoyed having Balthazar as a partner (surprisingly), and he finds himself glad the man doesn’t seem to hold any hard feelings against him. “Was there a reason you needed to talk to me?”

“Well, when you were separated from your arm candy, I got a bit concerned,” Balthazar replies, looking serious for once in his life. “It must be hard, being attractive to psychopaths.”

“Psychopaths who don’t think you’re blonde?”

“Obviously that’s her most grievous offense, but she’s certainly done more,” Balthazar sighs, shaking his head. “Even Bela thinks she’s certifiable, and Bela could talk a blind man into giving up his walking stick. A woman like that shouldn’t be afraid of anything.”

Apparently Castiel has been stuck in his own little world with Dean, because he hasn’t even considered that Meg might be bothering others in the competition. Surely in such tight quarters, when everyone is bored, there must be some sort of gossip. He’s just failed to hear, both due to his anti-social stance and his inability to care before something actually matters. “What else has Meg done?”

Balthazar looks delighted to have been asked, and Castiel privately thinks he should be glad he’s getting back home, so at least he’ll have something to do. Even if it is just gossiping about the other rich people he knows, it at least has to be more interesting than any of this. “Besides being a right pain in the arse? Well, turns out she’s an actor, though I’ve never heard of her. I believe she and Crowley have a history, although not a particularly good one. Rachel tells me they’re always meeting and screaming at one another.”

“Rachel?”

“Ah yes, I had sex with Rachel.” Castiel makes a face at him and Balthazar laughs. “Relax, she still holds a torch for you. I just needed a release, Cassie, I had balls bluer than your eyes. Bela is whipping them now, though, so I suppose those days are over.”

“She is whipping your balls,” Castiel says slowly, hoping that’s not exactly what t sounds like. It seems that it is though, because Balthazar gives him an incredibly satisfied smile.

"Yes, hopefully she’ll continue when this whole bloody mess is over. Enough about that, though. Back to the wonderful Meg. She and Anna had a bit of a rivalry going on. Meg pushed her in the pool.”

Castiel can believe it – in a strange sort of way, Anna and Meg were very similar, their personalities would certainly clash. He’s not as interested in petty fights as he is about Crowley and Meg’s relationship though. If Crowley dislikes Meg, why would he be helping her?

“What’s with the thinking face then? Don’t strain yourself darling.”

Maybe he should just grab Bobby and have him record what Crowley’s doing, since Castiel seems to be telling everyone about it anyway. He really isn’t concerned with keeping up Crowley’s image.

“Crowley’s going to kick me off the show if I don’t continue to partner with Meg,” he frowns, feeling a surge of anger all over again. “He thinks more people will watch the show if Dean and I are kept apart, because they’ll want to see us together.”

“Sounds like bloody Romeo and Juliet,” Balthazar snorted. “And believe me, the only thing keeping people reading that absolute trash was all the death.”

"I think we’d like to avoid death if we can.”

“Wouldn’t we all, Cassie?” Balthazar crosses his arms and leans against the tree. “Sorry to hear you’re stuck with Meg.”

“I think it’s worse that I’m essentially being blackmailed,” he grunts, ducking under the branch so he can be closer to Balthazar. “I don’t enjoy the feeling.”

“Mmm, I’m sure being separated from Dean the Love Machine Winchester isn’t something you enjoy much either.”

Castiel hesitates. This is the point at which he should apologize to Balthazar. They hadn’t talked since Castiel left him as a partner, and he really does deserve an explanation, whether or not he wants to accept it. Castiel has never been good at apologies, but since he likes Balthazar and would like to keep in touch with him when this whole mess is behind him, he decides to try. “I think you deserve an apology.”

“You’re damn right I do,” Balthazar nods, looking at him expectantly and not helping in the slightest. Castiel deserves that too.

“I’m sorry I dropped you for Dean without telling you,” Castiel says sincerely, then adds, “even though it’s an expected part of the show.”

"Can’t just let me have an apology, can you, you bastard? Alright, I’ll take it, I suppose.”

“Thank you?”

“Oh shut up,” Balthazar mutters. “What was it, then? Accent finally begin to drive you insane?”

“It actually didn’t have anything to do with you,” Castiel answers, and it occurs to him that he’s forgotten why he even partnered up with Dean in the first place, even though it couldn’t have happened more than a few days ago. Could it? “Sam Winchester basically told me I was no good for him and thanked me for leaving him alone.”

Balthazar laughs. “And of course you decided to do something about it. I’m fine with that reason.” He claps him on the shoulder. “I was afraid you were going to tell me I’ve been ugly my whole life and refused to realize. We dodged a bullet there.”

“You were a good partner,” Castiel says honestly. “I might have gone back to you.”

“If you were desperate, maybe,” he says, rolling his eyes. “And I’d have said no. You’re completely smitten with Dean, Cassie. I don’t do sloppy seconds.”

“I’m not _smitten_ ,” Castiel says in disgust, disliking the word choice immensely. It sounds less than flattering.

“Well then you do a damn fine job of acting it,” Balthazar shrugs, unconcerned. “You must like him.”

“Yes,” he says, thinking of Dean’s eyes, and his freckles, how he loves food and how he talks to Castiel with actions, not words. Dean has proven himself levels above any other human being Castiel has studied, but that makes him sound much more important than Castiel wants to let him be.

“I hope you can fix this mess then,” Balthazar, looks around and pushes himself off the tree. “I think it’s time to go.”

“What are you going to do?” Castiel asks, suddenly realizing Balthazar is now stuck in America, with little to no money left over.

“Don’t be too concerned Cassie. I’ll just be some rich bunny’s house boy before Bela decides she’ll waste time on me again.” Balthazar smirks widely, looking pleased. “I suspect after that my life will be full of grand larceny and kinky sex, which I’m completely on board with.”

Castiel ducks back out from under the tree as well, feeling sad for the first time in his life over a goodbye. “Keep in touch.”

“Well of course,” Balthazar replies, matter-of-fact. A look crosses his face and before Castiel realizes what’s happening, he’s been hugged and let go just as quickly. “Maybe sleep on a pool chair tonight, Cassie.”

“Good suggestion,” he nods. He’d already planned on it, since no way was he going anywhere near a cabin that had Meg in it. “Try not to get arrested.”

“But Castiel,” Balthazar protests, his eyes bright with barely concealed glee, “Jail is very fashionable. Orange is the new black, you know.”

Castiel assumes this is some pop culture reference and doesn’t respond. He can always ask Dean what it means later.

***

There’s a certain sense of déjà vu as Dean heads back to the cabin with Bela. Dean hates déjà vu. It’s supposed to be a feeling of familiarity, but really it’s more like familiarity with the unfamiliar. He had become intimately familiar with déjà vu as a kid, with the constant merry go round of motels, robberies, and cleaning up after his drunk father. The monotony had only been broken by Sam, who was always asking for help with homework, or for rides to friends houses, or if Dean could come kick a soccer ball around with him.

Basically Dean sick and tired of déjà vu.

Cas had broken the monotony this time around, but now it was back on the friggin’ track, and he was back where he’d been only a week ago – separated from Cas and stuck with Bela.

“Dean,” Bela says, cutting into his thoughts. They’re back at the cabin already, and she’s standing with their screen door open, her hips cocked to the side. “Will you get inside? I’m not holding the bloody door forever.”

Dean stops at the bottom of the stairs and smirks at the sight of her. “Only if you’re gonna curtsy for me too.”

“Please Dean. If you want to look at my breasts, at least have the courtesy of getting my top off before you try looking down it.” The screen door slams shut as she lets go and disappears inside.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to sarcastically thank her for reminding him it’s been months since he’s seen a nice bare chested woman when he realizes that the comment would be halfhearted at best. Because he doesn’t really care that it’s been that long. Even before juvie, when Dean wouldn’t admit his bisexuality to anyone, much less himself, he’d always had an appreciation and appetite for both the male and female form. The last time he can remember putting down the skin mags for more than a week and not even caring was his freshman year of high school, when they’d stuck around town long enough for him to attend baseball tryouts.

Aaron Bass’ ass in those tight pants had been more than enough to keep him going for a while.

He stands at the bottom of the steps for a minute, thinking about Aaron Bass’ ass, and how it’s still probably one of the nicest asses he’s ever seen, barring Cas’. And then he’s somehow thinking about Cas’ toned ass and it’s definitely time to go inside.

“Working up your nerve?” Bela asks when he comes in. She’s sitting on the bed, sifting her fingers through a fine chained silver necklace he’s pretty sure he saw Ruby wearing. He likes Bela better than Ruby though, and he’s fairly impressed she was able to snag it without him noticing, so he says nothing. Thinking of Ruby makes him think of how she willingly took herself out of the competition, which seemed suspicious at the time, but even more so now that Bela, who should be heading home with Balthazar, is sitting here in front of him throwing a stolen necklace around.

“What’d you do?” Dean asks suspiciously, crossing his arms.

“What’d I do?” she repeated innocently. “I found this necklace.”

“I don’t care about that,” he scowls, leaning across the bed and snatching it from her anyway. “Why did Ruby go home instead of you?”

“Oh Dean,” Bela sighs, eyes brimming with fake sympathy. “Are you saying you’d rather have Ruby as a partner?” The shift of her body is miniscule, but Dean catches it, and it’s impossible not to notice the strap of her dress slip down her shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ve been given a second chance here, Dean. We should take advantage of it.”

Dean tosses the necklace back at her and in her surprise, she catches it, the sultry demeanor falling away. “Seriously Bela. What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to initiate sex. It isn’t working.”

He frowns at her. “Yeah? Well I don’t think you’re actually serious, and that bothers me. So it’s not working. You wanna try answering again?”

Bela lets out an exasperated breath and straightens up, pulling her strap back onto her shoulder with a very business-like expression. “Look Dean, I know about the little game Crowley is playing with you. I want in on the finale, so it’d be really helpful if you allowed me to play too. If that means having angry, ‘I’m pretending you’re someone else’ sex so the audience buys it and Crowley lets me stay on, then so be it.”

“Woah, wait, hang on,” Dean shakes his head and sits down on the bed, staring at her. “There was so much wrong with that sentence. Let’s start from the beginning. Why do you want to be on the finale?”

“Are you sure you were ever a real criminal?” she asks snidely. “Traveling the world as a game show prize with your ‘lover’ is quite possibly the best cover ever designed. I want it.”

The reasoning makes much more sense in Dean’s head than he wants it too, so he doesn’t dwell on it too long. “Ok, fine. How do you know what Crowley’s doing to me an’ Cas?”

Bela looks like she’d rather suffocate him with her pillow then have to actually explain to Dean what’s going on, which makes him thankful she hadn’t decided her calling was to be a kindergarten teacher or something that would prove equally traumatic to the world. “I’ve completed some business transactions for Crowley and he owed me. He told me that was going on and we paid off Ruby.”

He should probably be a little more upset now that he’s got undeniable proof the show is so obviously rigged, but it this point it’s not even a surprise. Life sucks, and this show is a bubble of fake happenstance and emotion. Might as well ride it out with Cas if he can. The only thing Bela says that really catches his attention is about Crowley. “You’ve done business transactions? So illegal stuff.”

“If we were to get caught, yes.”

Blackmail is an art form. Dean saw it performed countless times as a child, mostly among his dad’s friends. One small piece of vital information could make a man rich within seconds if he knew how to use it correctly. If Bela knows something about Crowley that can be used against him, it’s possible he and Cas could very easily be together again by the next challenge. Thing is, Bela’s not going to tell him what she knows without something in return.

“You stealing anything for him here?” he asks as off-handedly as possible, gesturing at the necklace still in her hands.

Bela looks suspicious, but Dean can tell she’s not sure exactly what she should be suspicious of. “Why?”

“Just wonderin’, since you took Cas’ sketchbook a while back.”

Bela’s face clears in one smooth motion and Dean starts cursing internally. “You mean the sketchbook you took.”

“Bela…” he warns.

"Dean,” she says simply. “Don’t. If anyone finds out that sketchbook was taken, it was you taking it from Castiel. What a terrible thing to do to someone you claim to like, Dean. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Jesus Bela,” he snaps. “I’m not going to tell anybody.”

“Well at least there’s still honor among thieves. What is it you want then, if this isn’t your sad amateurish attempt at blackmail?”

“I want to know what you know about Crowley,” Dean admits. “I can trade you for the information.”

“What could you possibly have that I want?”

“I’ll give you one of Cas’ sketches,” he offers. “One is better than none, right? This one’ll even be legal, you’ll have actually earned the money you make of off it. Make you feel good about yourself.”

Bela’s lip curls as she sneers at him. “I feel fantastic about myself. You must be projecting.”

Dean doesn’t dislike Bela, mostly because she doesn’t take his shit, whether he’s actually trying to give shit or not. If they’d met under different circumstances they probably would have ended up having angry sex in a broom closet or something. But they’re on a TV show in Costa Rica, where Dean gets to have sex with Cas, except now that’s been taken away from him too. So Bela is snide, Dean is sarcastic, and nobody gets any sex out of the frustration he feels brewing between them.

“Fine,” he says roughly. “I don’t care. Are you gonna tell me what you know about Crowley or not?”

She sighs heavily and gets off the bed, heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Dean rolls his eyes and leans back on the headboard, waiting and unconcerned. She’s playing mind games with him, he’s pretty sure. It’s fine. If she won’t tell him, he and Cas can figure out something else. Get Crowley away from the show somehow. Anything.

“I want a good sketch, Winchester!” Bela calls through the door. “An original!”

Dean grins up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. “You got it.”

***

Castiel was getting too old to be sleeping on chairs.

His freshman year at NYU, he’d had a roommate named Ash who was a computer engineering major. Most college kids worried about being kicked out of their room so their roommates could have sex. Instead, Ash was in the library so often Castiel soon found himself bringing him coffee, and eventually sitting in there with him. The NYU library at two in the morning turned out to be a fascinating place to watch all kinds of different people, both in their looks and in their souls. Castiel carried the habit throughout college, and even used it as a senior project. The majority of his college career had been spent sleeping in library chairs.

It was ironic that his first time sleeping in a chair to avoid unwanted sexual action came when he was pushing thirty and it wasn’t all that comfortable anymore. Funnily enough, his back hadn’t hurt this much after lying on a pool chair all night with Dean.

"Seriously,” Meg says, her lips curling into a sneer when she sees him. He knows how he must look, his hair mussed and sticking up in all directions and his track pants and wrinkled from being slept in. Frankly he doesn’t care. He hadn’t wanted to stop at the cabin and spend any more time with Meg than he had to.

“Seriously,” he nods solemnly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, hoping the tangled mess becomes even worse.

Meg follows the movement with her eyes and asks, “So what, did you sleep outside?”

Castiel cocks her head at her and thinks for a moment. Meg reminds him a lot of the business women in New York, the ones that demanded attention. The easiest way to put Meg off is to treat her just like anybody else. “I did, Meg. Thank you for your concern.”

She shakes her head and looks away. “Whatever. We’ve got a week. You have to come into the cabin sometime.”

Cas feels a hand brush the small of his back and turns slightly to see Dean passing him to get to the end of the line. “Who did that to your hair?” he asks quietly, his voice low.

“I woke up like this.”

“You look like sex walkin’,” Dean’s eyes darken as he runs his eyes over Castiel again, gaze lingering on his lips.

"Get the hell outta here, Winchester,” Meg snaps, turning abruptly. Dean scowls at her but otherwise allows Bela to lead him off, although he looks none too happy about it.

“Was that really necessary?” Castiel asked mildly, eyes sliding back to Meg. “He’s not a threat.”

“Of course he’s not a threat, Clarence. Means I shouldn’t have to look at him if I don’t want to.”

They’re down at the water again, although instead of standing on the bank of the river they’re at the mouth, where it runs into the ocean. Castiel can see objects bouncing up and down in the water about fifty yards out and summarizes they must be boats.

He hopes Meg can swim, because there’s no way he’s doing the majority of the work on this one. His only goal is to not come in last – he couldn’t care less whether or not they win the trip to the Oasis. In fact, he’d prefer that they didn’t.

There’s a sharp whistle from behind them and Sam, who’s on the other side of Cas, almost knocks him over when they both whip around. Gabriel is standing behind them looking put off, his usual smirk replaced with a look of annoyance.

“Get around, don’t you Cassarella?” he asks, as Sam, who’d managed to trip over himself, catch Castiel, and say sorry about five times in the space of twenty seconds, sets him back on his feet.

“Relax Gabriel. I’ll come around to you eventually.”

“Woah, please, Cassie, not in front of the children,” Gabriel runs a hand over his face and manages to look marginally less pissed off, although when he addresses them all as, ‘you shitheads,” Castiel starts to wonder if something is seriously wrong.

Bobby yells at Gabriel, Jody tells him to behave, and suddenly the cameras are rolling and Castiel has to pretend he wants to be here.

“So, we’re heading down the home stretch,” Gabriel says, sounding like he’s reading straight off of a cue card. Castiel actually glances behind him to see if a PA is standing with one beside the camera, but there’s only Bobby, who’s texting, and a few PAs milling around in the background. “Anyone else here as devastated as I am? We’re all becoming so close here, it’s hard to say goodbye.

“Usually at this point of the show everyone has realized they aren’t going to find love in the wild, or they’ve found the schmuck they’re sticking it out with. Bit of a surprise twist that we had a switch so late in the game last night, eh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Cas. “Any hard feelings there Dean?”

“All part of the game, right?” Dean says easily, not even batting an eye. “I like Cas though. I’m hoping I can win him back.”

That should earn him a brownie point in Crowley’s book. Castiel wonders if Dean is doing it on purpose, and then has a quick second where he wonders if he should be doing it too. But he’s never been a good actor – anything he might have to say about wanting to be with Dean would be real. And he was afraid of what it was that might come out of his mouth at this point.

“There’s a diplomatic answer if I’ve ever heard one,” Gabriel says cheerily, fake host smile still in place. “Because you guys are such a special group, they’ve changed the challenge. Like I said, usually at this point we’re all about cementing the relationships already made, but since some of you can’t seem to decide on just one flavor of ice cream, the objective has changed. Some say opposites attract, and some say those who are similar to one another get along best. That’s up for you knuckleheads to decide. Today we’re testing interpretations. If you’ll kindly turn your heads and look out at the ocean, you’ll see boats. It’s your job to swim that ridiculous distance purely for my own amusement. There’s a map on board, and a clue, and you need to follow that clue to the next location, where there’ll be a bag of gold coins and another clue. Find all three bags with the help of the clues and head into the village. There’s a man at a bar in town waiting for you. His name is Metatron, and he’ll tell you a phrase that you then need to come and tell me to win. Chuck the coins at him to get him to talk,” Gabriel adds, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. “Just be careful – once he starts he won’t stop. First place at the Oasis, yada yada. We got any questions?”

“Do they have to be about the show?” Luke asks, sounding very pointed, and Castiel leans back so he can look past Sam to see his expression. It’s stoic as always, although like his tone, it’s pointed somehow.

“That’s what they tell me, toots,” he answers, not seeming at all put off by how intently Luke is staring at him. “If it’s a question about my hair though, I’ll toss ya a freebie –mayonnaise. It’ll fix all the dead looking spots on your head there, young Skywalker. We ready to go now? Because I’m calling it. Go.”

“What a fucking weirdo,” Meg comments as they head out towards the water, the disdain evident in her tone. Castiel glances at her, because even though he’s thought so privately about some of his previous partners, it’s still a strange thing to admit out loud about someone you’ve had intimate relations with.

“You’re the one who slept with him.”

“I slept with Luke, but thanks for thinking I’d added Gabriel to the list.”

Castiel had thought she was talking about Luke, since he was sure it’d be well established that Gabriel was more than a little unorthodox. He doesn’t bother saying anything though, letting Meg think what she wants as he wades into the ocean, letting the cool ocean reach his chest before he dives in, letting the water wash over him and the quiet engulf him for a few quick seconds until he has to surface again to swim.

Meg keeps up with him easily, and Castiel can’t decide if that’s good or not as he hauls himself up into the boat. Does it really matter at this point?

Turns out letting Meg think what she wanted hadn’t been good for her. The five minute swim where she hadn’t been able to talk probably hadn’t helped any either, because as Castiel pulls out the map she retorts, “Why are you so interested in who I sleep with anyway?”

“I’m not,” Castiel replies honestly. She could have slept with Luke and Gabriel and Ruby and Victor…pretty much anybody really. He’d gone on tears like that himself before. If she’d slept with Dean it might have bothered him, but those were for personal reasons Castiel kept tight to his chest, reasons his brain seemed to continuously enjoy reminding him of.

“Yeah, well good,” she says. “Because it’s none of your business anyway. Especially not with you acting all housewife with Winchester.”

Castiel had been reading the clue, which he’s pretty sure is directing them to a small lagoon off the river, but catching the word housewife, he looks up to meet Meg’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” she smirks, “banging every night, all that refusal to be with anyone else. You’re practically whipped.”

"Dean and I have an agreement,” he replies, handing the map over to her. “It’s none of your business, so I’m not going to discuss it with you. Tell me where you think that clue is telling us to go.”

“God, you’re so _direct_ ,” Meg mutters, taking the map and glancing at it. “No wonder people want you so badly – they just wanna fuck you up, don’t they?”

“Luckily my life is sufficiently fucked up as it is, so the ones who stay after that realization are really the keepers. Now where are we going, Meg?”

“The lagoon, duh,” she says dismissively, dropping the map to the floor of the boat. “You couldn’t figure that out?”

Castiel shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t look like Meg is going to help him row, so he scoots closer to the center of the boat, hoping he can keep it on course by himself.

The effort it takes to row means he’s not paying attention to the other couples, but Meg provides him with an unhelpful and rather derisive commentary. From it he learns Benny and Jo are far ahead, with Dean and Bela not far behind them. Sam and Luke are in last place, Meg mentioning that Luke had hung back and said something else to Gabriel.

It doesn’t sound like Luke is trying that hard to win, and he hopes Sam knows what’s going on, instead of being blindsided by whatever he’s trying to accomplish.

Meg’s constant remarks do succeed in distracting him from how tired his arms are, and he manages to pull the canoe through an overhang of trees into the lagoon just as Dean and Bela are leaving. Both of them are arguing over the quality of the coins and whether they’re gold or gold plate, and Dean catches Castiel’s eye just as he’s biting down on one of them to test it, sending him a wink and a wide grin around the coin between his teeth. Castiel doubts it’s a mental picture he’s going to forget anytime soon.

“You seriously fall for that kind of thing?” Meg asks as they clamber out of the boat. There are two bags of coins clearly hanging from the branch of a tree just far enough away that they have to get out of the boat to grab it.

“For what thing?”

“The smooth guy act.”

Castiel frowns and considers it before heading over to the tree and easily reaching up to grab the bag. “It’s just Dean,” he says simply, tossing the bag to her and heading back into the boat.

Meg shakes her head in disbelief. “So you’re saying it’s just him you like, not something else.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Castiel agrees, using the paddle of the canoe to push off the bank and back into deeper water. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you can ask me nicely,” she retorts, scooping the map from the bottom of the boat and unfolding it.

“Why is it you want to be partnered with me so badly?”

 Meg snorts. “Are you tryin’ to bond with me, Clarence? Hear some tragic back story? Because it ain’t gonna happen. I get what I want, and I wanted you. Pretty simple.”

"I suppose I should be flattered,” he says flatly. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, right, I’m sure you’re real flattered,” Meg raises an eyebrow at him. “Hot shot like you probably has people clambering to get into your bed all the time, don’t ya big boy?”

“Perhaps,” Castiel answers, confused about where this is going. “But if that’s the case the bed is usually the only place they want to be.”

Castiel wonders how many of his one night stands had even seen any room in his apartment other than the bedroom. Not that it was anyone’s fault but his own. He’d been fine with the one night stands, and he wasn’t regretting them now. It was just a little strange to realize so many people had come into his apartment and left without knowing the color of his couch.

It’s a blue couch. He’d chosen it because it was the perfect median between firm and soft, and the arm rests weren’t too high to rest your head on if you wanted to nap. It reminded him of the color of the sky just before twilight.

Dean would probably like his couch.

“So?” Meg’s saying. “You had people that wanted you. You have people that want you now, and you don’t even try. Some of us aren’t as such a special a snowflake as you. We gotta fight for what we want, and if I gotta use your ass to get noticed, then so be it.”

It strikes Castiel as highly ironic that Meg, the one forcing him to fight to be with Dean, is the one informing him everything comes easily to him.

“My life isn’t that easy, Meg.”

“Sure, angel. Dean Winchester comes marching in here saying he doesn’t want anything to do with anybody, and then I turn around and he’s wrapped around your finger. But your life’s not that easy.”

Castiel feels insulted on behalf of Dean’s agency, but if he ignores the phrasing, he almost wishes it were true. He’s seen the kind of loyalty Dean has exhibited for Sam, and for certain aspects of his father, and to be part of the small circle with which Dean Winchester protects with his very being is something Castiel would accept and reciprocate wholeheartedly. Nobody in his life has ever cared unconditionally for him, and he hopes to experience it someday if only to see that he is capable of being loved in that way.

Thinking these thoughts on a boat with Meg is not something he wants to do.

“Where are we going next?”

The next two bags of coins are found in much the same way as the first. Castiel doesn’t even look at the hints this time, just goes where Meg tells him to go, and luckily, both times she’s right. Neither of the bags are hard to get, with one sitting atop a shelf of rock and another buried in the large roots of a tree. Finally their canoe hits the dock of the village with the bar they need to go to, and Castiel’s arms are so tired he doesn’t care about much else other than that he gets to stop.

As Castiel is sure Crowley and Jody are pleased with, the little place they’ve stopped at looks exactly like the stereotypical, wood and straw house deal the typical viewer would expect from Costa Rica. This has to be a tourist area. There’s no way the entire country is like this, straight out of Robinson Crusoe.

Castiel doesn’t bother tying the boat to the dock. There’s not much of a current, and Meg is already halfway down the path and into the village, so he decides to leave it be in order to catch up with her. The bar is easy enough to find, since it’s one of the larger bars towards the middle of the town, with a large, wraparound porch filled with umbrella shaded tables and a door thrown wide open to invite everyone and the ocean breeze in.

“Alright, what’s that fucking weird ass name Gabriel told us?” Meg asks, stopping abruptly at the foot of the porch stairs, causing Castiel to almost run into her. “It was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“His name wasn’t Stupid,” Castiel replies, certain Meg isn’t going to find the joke amusing as he peers into the bar. Too bad capitalization of words isn’t evident in speech. The inside of the bar is very dark contrasted to the bright sun outside, and he can’t see much. “I believe it was Metatron.”

Dean comes charging out of the entrance of the bar as Castiel is studying it, Bela following behind and looking for all the world like someone who’s just let their dog off the leash and is now regretting it immensely. “Hey, Cas,” Dean says, sounding pleased with himself as he comes to a stop a step above him. “You going in to talk to Megatron?”

“Will you please say it correctly?” Bela objects loudly. “I’m convinced he kept us as long as he did because you insisted on calling him that. After he’d corrected you. Three times, I might add.”

“Nah, that’s not true. He loved me.” Castiel wishes he had been there to see Dean interact with Metatron. It seemed like he got a lot of joy out of pissing off authority figures, a remnant of spending his whole life believing them to be the bad guys. Though Castiel doesn’t necessarily approve, it’s hard to be irritated with Dean when he has that swagger in his step and a cheeky grin on his face. It’s a form of self-satisfaction, which Dean rarely experienced, and it was a genuine emotion, which Castiel enjoyed seeing when Dean was usually so vigilant in masking them.

“Well, what’s the damn phrase?” Meg asks.

Bela glances at her and arches an eyebrow. “Why would we tell you? We went through all the bloody trouble of talking to the man.”

“Boo hoo, you said a few words. Big deal.”

Dean shakes his head at her. “We’re not giving it to you, Meg. You wanted to play the damn game, so play it. The phrase is a bitch to memorize anyway.”

“You’re just horrendous at Spanish, Dean.”

“Do you know what it means?” Castiel cuts in, causing Bela to give him a dirty look.

“What?” Dean meets his eyes, a small confused crease to his brow Castiel has to fight the urge to smooth away. “Oh, yeah. I know what it means.”

“So fucking tell us,” Meg says in frustration.

“Sorry, Veruca Salt. Can’t always get what we want.” Dean shoots Cas a teasing smile, inclining his head. “Come on Bela. Second place is calling, and Miss Salt over here needs to get her golden goose.”

Castiel doesn’t wait to watch them leave, instead heading up the porch and into the bar without Meg, whom he could still hear sneering at Dean. Frankly he’s surprised Sam and Luke haven’t caught up with them already, and he supposes he should be grateful, if a little sad on Dean’s behalf. He wonders if Dean has realized Sam will be going home next, and hopes that he’s dealing with it well.

The bar is surprisingly full, with it only being mid-afternoon, and Castiel has no idea who Metatron could be. There are several men here drinking alone, all of various ages, all viable options. Unfortunately, he really doesn’t want to go up and start talking to random people.

Meg solves the problem simply, albeit embarrassingly, by stepping beside Castiel and calling out, “Which one of you sad, sad people is Metatron?”

Castiel winces slightly and takes a step away from her. Most everyone in the bar turned to look at them after hearing Meg’s loud declaration, so the tactic seems to have been useless until he notices an older man at the bar staring at them, a slight frown on his face.

“There,” he says, not waiting to see if Meg heard him before he heads over to the bar.

Metatron, Cas can tell without him even standing up, is short. Shorter than he is, which isn’t saying much, but also shorter than average. He has salt and pepper hair and a short matching beard, and although his expression is pleasant enough Castiel feels an immediate sense of distrust.

“Are you Metatron?” Meg demands to know, skipping any kind of formality.

“I am,” he nods, smiling at them. “Are you here for a story?”

“We’re here for the damn phrase or whatever stupid thing it is today,” Meg says impatiently. “Now cough it up old man, because we haven’t got all day.”

“Once,” Metatron starts calmly, completely ignoring her in favor of looking at Castiel. “In a world where God was dead and his children had free reign, two people in the oddest of circumstances managed to find the good in one another.”

“Is that a lesson?” Castiel asks, staring at him.

Metatron shrugs. “Stories give us the strangest ideas about how real life should happen.”

"Fucking hell,” Meg groans. “I’m going to start throwing things. Is that the phrase?”

“No.” He frowns and finally spares Meg a glance. “Your phrase is this, ‘el amor encuentra los incautos.’”

“Finally. I can’t believe I haven’t turned fifty yet,” Meg leaves without saying goodbye, presumably so fed up over having to actually hold some conversation she can’t be bothered to pretend to have manners.

“Thank you,” Castiel says politely, mouthing the words of the phrase a few times to himself before adding, “And thank you for the story.”

“You’re welcome,” Metatron replies, still looking cheerful enough despite having to deal with Meg. “Just remember it’s fiction, Castiel.”

Castiel sincerely hopes Metatron knows his name from someone on the show and that him using it without them being introduced is supposed to be creepy. Otherwise he’d be worried.

Meg had barely waited for him, but he supposes he should be glad she waited at all. Most likely because she’s forgotten the phrase and needs him. She’s standing a ways up the path, hip cocked and foot tapping impatiently. “You done sucking up, Clarence?”

“Thanking somebody for helping isn’t sucking up, Meg.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “Geez, I can always count on you to be my angel, can’t I?”

Castiel objects to being called angel, least of all by Meg, but he decides the argument isn’t worth it. All they have to do is get back to Gabriel, and the challenge will be over and he can stay as far away as possible from her once again.

Gabriel, as always, is waiting for them with a bored expression on his face. Somehow he’s gotten hold of a doughnut, something Castiel hasn’t seen the entirety of his time here, even at breakfast at the Oasis. He seems unconcerned that they’re on camera when they reach him, taking the time to lick the sticky glaze off his hands before speaking. “Great job, you two. If you can tell me the phrase, you’ve gotten third place.”

“We have it,” Castiel confirms. “It’s—“

“Does Meg have it?”

“Yeah, sorry there Gabey-boy. I don’t do Spanish.”

Gabriel looks like he might say something, and whether it’s a refusal to let them take third place or a cutting remark, they’ll never know, because he seems to think stuffing the rest of the doughnut into his mouth is better than saying whatever he wants to say. “Mmf? Wha es eh?”

“El amor encuentra los incautos,” Castiel recites dutifully.

Gabriel gulps down the doughnut in his mouth with tremendous effort before nodding, smile back on his face. “And I’m sure it means nothing to you two. Alright, you crazy kids. Head on back to headquarters. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the ceremony.”

“Let’s go,” Meg says. “I want to go swimming.”

“I wanted to know what the phrase meant,” Castiel says, slightly disappointed. Dean had seemed to like it, unless they’d both gotten different ones.

“Who cares? It’s Spanish. Just look it up.”

Somehow he doesn’t think looking it up will have the same meaning, although he can’t exactly put his finger on why. Crowley had said he and Dean couldn’t be caught together alone on camera, but Castiel is beginning to think he’s going his damndest to get him alone anyway. Frankly he’s tired of this – the game, the cameras, the promise of love. And even if Dean is all a part of that, Castiel doesn’t care.

He’s not tired of Dean. Not yet. He’s having a hard time imagining he’ll ever be.

***

Turns out Cas is a sneaky son of a bitch. He’d thought Crowley had said they couldn’t see one another at all, but Cas had managed to get to him at dinner last night and told him Crowley had only said, ‘on camera’.

"I spend a lot of time off camera,” Cas had added, smiling slightly.

So that’s how Dean finds himself traipsing through the trees and looking for whatever place Cas might hide himself in when he doesn’t want to be around people. Which actually seems to be very often, but in this case, it works in Dean’s favor.

Two hours and three tree branches in his face later, Dean’s not thinking so favorably about this whole off camera thing anymore. Sure, maybe back at the pool he’s not allowed to talk to Cas, but jesus, at least he can actually see him.

“Are you lost?” Cas’ amused voice comes from behind him and Dean abruptly stops walking, his shoulders slumping with relief.

“I swear Cas, if I had to walk another mile…”

He turns in time to see Cas roll his eyes before he says, “hush, Dean,” threading a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and kissing him.

“What was that for?” Dean asks when they break apart.

Cas shrugs. “I wanted to. I…missed you.” The way Cas says it makes the word sound foreign, like it’s unfamiliar to him. Dean knows the feeling. There’re not many people that come into his life that he ends up missing.

“It’s been weird,” Dean agrees, because he’s not sure he can work up the courage to say it back. He’s surprised Cas said it at all, especially to him.

Cas just shoots his little half smile and raises his arm, pointing. Dean sees the sketchbook tucked under his arm and raises an eyebrow. “I was going to draw,” he explains. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean says immediately. He takes this to mean Cas is actually going to let him watch, something Dean has been aching to do practically ever since he saw Cas’ tattoo. He hasn’t seen much else of his completed art, much less stuff that’s still in production.

“Behave,” Cas warns. He leads Dean through a little copse of trees and into a small clearing. The trees have created a canopy here, with sunlight filtering through the green, and there must be a small stream nearby, because Dean can hear water trickling off the rocks.

"This is where you draw?”

“Mhmm,” Cas nods, dropping down into the grass. “Although half the time I end up thinking instead. I don’t know if you’ve noticed Dean, but I’m a horrible procrastinator.”

“Or maybe you just don’t like what you’re drawing,” Dean offers. “Sometimes when I’m carving I gotta take a step back and let it all out. You shouldn’t spend time on something you don’t love, Cas.”

Cas stares up at him for a second before tugging on his hand to pull him down next to him. There’s a tree to their backs, and Dean joins Cas in leaning against the trunk. “That’s sage advice.”

“Just doing my part to help out the sage community,” Dean jokes, a satisfied smile on his face.

“I’ll take that into account next time you say something wise.” Cas rolls his eyes and flips the sketchbook open, pausing at a drawing. It’s of Luke, and Dean manages to catch an impression of swooping lines that make up wings, and sharp, contrasting shading. “Luke has offered to help us with our problem.”

“Luke?” Dean asks, not even bothering to hide his surprise. “What the hell is he going to do?”

“I have no idea, but he says he’s helping.” Cas stops flipping his sketchbook on a page with a half drawn sketch. Just an outline of a profile has been etched in so far, and Dean can’t tell who it is just from that. “You do realize Sam and Luke came in last, right?”

Dean had realized, actually. He’d already had his minor freak out about it, before he realized how much he was acting like a kid separated from his blanket for the first time. He’d been separated from Sam before (by at least three states, at one horrible point in his life) and he was just lucky Sam decided to go to grad school in Lawrence. He could handle it if Sam headed back to Kansas and he stuck around here for a few more days. That being said, he still answers, “Doesn’t mean he’ll get eliminated.”

Cas frowns in a way Dean has affectionately come to know means, ‘whatever you say, Dean’ and nods politely.

“Hey,” Dean says suddenly, an idea striking him. “Maybe if Luke is gonna help us one up Crowley, he’s figured out a way for them to hang around.”

“That could be the case,” Cas agrees easily. “But I wouldn’t pin my hopes on it.”

“Let a guy dream, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head at his sketchbook before making one swooping line with a quick brush of his hand. “Would it really be so bad?”

“Would what be so bad?” Cas’ hair, unruly as it is, had tickled Dean’s nose when he’d tilted his head, and he huffs out a sneeze.

“If Sam were to go home right now,” Cas clarifies. “You’d be alright with it.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m not five, Cas. Think I can handle a couple of nights without my brother. You know I even lived in an apartment without him, once upon a time?”

“I know, I know,” he says. “I wasn’t belittling your independence Dean. You just led me to believe perhaps you felt more anxious when Sam wasn’t around.”

It dawns on Dean that maybe Cas is fishing for information, and he just can’t figure it out because Cas never fishes. Ever. He tells you what he wants to know or he doesn’t care at all, but either way Dean has never experienced Cas leading him to an answer. He remembers Cas saying once he was a good strategist, and thinks maybe he should have taken that claim more seriously. “You’re talking about the juvie thing, aren’t you?” he hedges warily. “Because yeah, that made me anxious Cas. Sam was thirteen, and I told you my dad left him to be stuck with some sponsor family. That was all on me. If Sam goes home tomorrow night, even I’m not stupid enough to think it’s my fault.”

“Yet you’ll let yourself believe it was your fault Sam ended up in a foster family? It’s true you shouldn’t have been sent to jail, Dean, but Sam is your father’s son, not yours. It is your father’s job to feed him and clothe him, and if he felt he was unfit to do that, maybe it was best Sam was left with a family that could do those things for him.”

“Sam should have grown up with his real family,” Dean says firmly, voice rising. “You think his foster parents give a fuck about him, Cas? Guess who’s paying for his education? As soon as he was eighteen, they kicked his ass out of there. I’m his fucking brother. I’m supposed to be taking care of him.”

“But you were out by then, weren’t you?” Cas asks, and his voice remains calm and steady in contrast to Dean’s. “So then he was able to reunite with you when it mattered. Was he starving when he saw you again?”

“No,” Dean admits grudgingly. “He still had to live with total strangers for five years, Cas, and I could never take custody. That’s all on me.”

Cas’ jaw is set in a stubborn line as he shakes his head, his hands still surprisingly light as he sketches. Dean would have had the pencil gauging the paper. Sam is careful not to start fights with Dean while he’s working, because his hands fly everywhere and often there are things like hammers in them. “How did you get sent to jail anyway, Dean?”

Dean knows the answer to this question. It had haunted his dreams those first few nights alone in confinement when he was seventeen, and after he’d gotten out and was forced to finish parole before he could see Sam again. It makes him cringe whenever he remembers missing Sam’s first high school dance, and that he never got to teach him how to drive. Just because he knows the answer, though, doesn’t mean he wants to tell Cas. Because that would be the tipping point. Dean knows what a bad person he is – if Cas knew how he ended up in jail, and why Sam was left alone, there was no way he could help but realize how stupid he was. “I fucked up, ok?” he says, and that’s going to have to be enough, because he’s not saying anything else. Not when he and Cas have so little time left. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll run into one another in a few years and the while story will come pouring out, but for the moment, Dean’s not risking it. “That’s all I’m saying about it.”

“Fair enough,” Castiel says, and if he’s disappointed by Dean’s answer, he does a good job of hiding it.

Dean decides not to respond, because that means more talking, and even though he’s still a bit pissed, he kinda just wants to sit here, with Cas. The drawing is beginning to develop some defining features, and he watches in comfortable silence as Cas adds a line here, a circle there. There’s a calming rhythm to it, and soon his eyes begin to feel heavy and he finds his head drooping to rest on Cas’ shoulder, his frustration forgotten. Cas doesn’t complain, even though the shoulder Dean is on is attached to the arm he’s drawing with, forcing him to go slower, be more careful. Dean enjoys the steady movement under his cheekbone and watches through slitted eyes as Cas works on shading a forehead, a chin, some hair.

Soon the face becomes too recognizable even for his clueless ass to ignore.

“Woah. That’s Sam.”

“Good job.” Dean can’t tell if Cas is being sarcastic or if he actually thinks he deserves some sort of praise for finally recognizing an extremely good likeness of his brother. It causes him to flounder for a moment before just moving the conversation along.

“Is he an angel? Who is he?”

“Samael,” Castiel replies, setting his graphite down and running a finger over the page. “He’s the angel of death. There are many misinterpretations of his character – the text can’t seem to decide whether he was bad or good.”

“That why he’s half in the dark?” Dean observes. He’s not totally sure how he feels about Sam being compared to some ambiguous, possibly asshole angel dude, but he’s definitely not one to stomp over artistic integrity. Besides, it’s kind of cool that Cas has noticed how all over the place Sam can be. Some people never figure it out.

“Yes,” Cas says, sounding pleased Dean noticed. Dean feels him shift and summarizes Cas must be trying to look at him. “I like your brother, Dean,” he adds, “He’s a good man. Samael was very protective, and he held a great deal of responsibility for others, both traits I see come out in Sam towards you.”

“Hey, it’s cool, Cas. I’m not mad or anything. Sam wouldn’t be either. He’d probably piss his pants in excitement if he knew you were drawing him.”

Cas must have been expecting a fight, or at least a rebuttal, because Dean’s head rises and falls with Cas as he takes a deep breath before saying. “He’s also very tall – you don’t mind?”

“Nah,” Dean says lightly, a teasing tone entering his voice as he lifts his head to look Cas in the eyes. “Only thing I mind is that you got his nose completely wrong.”

Dean was joking. Cas had gotten every detail right, down to the stupid bump Sam had at the very tip. But Cas hands the sketchbook over without hesitation, with the demand, “show me.”

He stares down at the sketchbook in his hands in surprise. The last time he’d been holding this, it’d been stolen, and every single nerve in his body had screamed for him to get rid of it. Like a disease his body deemed foreign, his brain wanted nothing to do with stolen objects anymore. Now Cas had given him the sketchbook, and he was able to hang on to it, guilt free. It was even opened, something he never thought he’d see. “I was kidding, Cas. Sam’s dumb nose is perfect. This is all great.” He stares at his brother’s all too familiar face a while longer (Cas had even managed to catch that damn know-it-all look always lurking in Sam’s eyes) before going to hand it back.

“Do you want to see more?”

“More?” Dean repeats dumbly.

“Yes,” Cas nods, taking the book and flipping it to the beginning before handing it back to Dean. “Please. I’d like you to.”

There is an amount of trust and sharing here that Dean doesn’t deserve. He gets the feeling that these drawings are private, and only for Cas, yet he wants Dean to see them. He probably shouldn’t look, but Dean never claimed to be a good man. He’s greedy and he can certainly be selfish with the rest of them. So he looks at the first page, which is a drawing of Balthazar.

Cas has somehow managed to make it look like there are an impression of wings without really drawing them. Balthazar’s just standing, staring off into the distance with a self-satisfied smile on his face, but there’s the suggestion of movement, of something heavier and bigger than him in the set of his shoulders. If he looks closely he can see the faint outline of feathers, but the beauty is in not having to look, of just knowing they’re there.

Dean flips through all the drawings, each as fantastic as the last. He really shouldn’t be surprised, since he expected this all along, but Cas is really good at what he does. It seems he’s drawn everyone in the show, from Rachel, to a humorous rendition of Bobby, to Charlie.

Dean would never admit that he expected to see himself in this book, mostly because if it wasn’t there he’d be more disappointed than if he expected nothing at all. He’s not vain enough to think Cas would immediately want to capture his features on paper, but at the same time he can’t shake the knowledge that he and Cas have become fairly close. Surely he must have slipped in somewhere.

About halfway through there are a lot of drawings of hands, a jaw, a torso with an arm slung across the middle. It’s not until he hits a quick sketch of his face that he realizes those must all have been him, and finally two pages later Cas has drawn him full body. He doesn’t have wings though, or even the suggestion of ones. It’s just him, boring old Dean Winchester, and he tries to push away the disappointment he feels that Cas couldn’t make him an angel, something he seemed so keen on doing for everyone else.

Don’t get him wrong, the sketches are amazing, and Dean loves every single one of them. He just can’t help feeling this is just something else he isn’t good enough for.

“Couldn’t think of a birdbrain counterpart for me, huh?” Dean asks lightly as he stops flipping pages. Cas has been watching him go through with quiet concentration the entire time, and Dean realizes he probably should have made noises of praise, or something. That was what you were supposed to do to appreciate an artist’s work, right?

Cas must have decided to ignore his stupidity, because he answers immediately, “Michael. You’d be the archangel Michael.”

“Really?” Dean squints down at the drawing he’s stopped at, looking for any sign of angelic features. Maybe he’s been too unobservant to be able to see them on himself.

“I haven’t drawn you as an angel, Dean.”

“Oh.” He looks up again, meeting Cas’ gaze. It’s as intense as always, but somehow more so this time. Cas is staring at Dean like he’s just told him the meaning of life, and it’s making Dean a little uncomfortable. “Uh…” he fumbles under the attention, before rallying, “why not?”

“Because,” Cas says slowly, like he’s carefully tasting each word before he lets it out, “you are perfect in your humanity.”

Dean stares at him for a few seconds, at the almost earnest expression on his face. He hates to see it go, but he has to argue, because he can’t have Cas believing shit that isn’t true. “Cas…no I’m not.”

His face transforms from earnest to frustrated within seconds. “Yes you are,” he says stubbornly. “Dean, I draw people as angels to enhance them. To bring their best characteristics to light, to make them a perfect version of themselves. I couldn’t draw wings on you. The idea never occurred to me. You are much larger than life, or even heaven, it seems, and I…like you the way that you are. Please believe that.”

“Cas, have you been listening to any of the stuff I tell you?” Dean asks, incredulous. “I drink, I fight, I used to steal, I’ve been to jail, I let people down…I’m not perfect buddy, no matter how many angel wings you decide I don’t need drawn on me.”

“Your imperfections make you human,” he says quietly, taking the sketchbook away from Dean and tossing it onto the grass. “Even down to your freckles, everything that is you is the essence of what being human is. You have faced hardships and decisions and trials unique to you and yet relatable to so many other people, and to come out of them as you have is incredible and inspiring. I think it’s what I like most about you.”

Dean honestly can’t believe this is happening – that anyone could view his screwing up as…as _character building_. He’s fucked up six ways to Sunday, the only character that’s built is an asshole with a smart mouth and a semi-acceptable way of making a living. Christ, he doesn’t even work in an office building or have a uniform, not like little kids are taught they’re supposed to want. Not like Sam’s going to have. He just sits around on his ass all day making pretty shapes in different pieces of wood. Still, here’s Cas, who for some reason thinks Dean has turned out to be this person capable of his– of fuck, _admiration_. It’s an insane idea to Dean. Absolutely insane.

“You don’t even know,” he protests weakly, “You don’t even know why I went to jail, or what happened in jail, or what happened with Cassie. You don’t know any of this shit Cas.”

“I know you, now. And I like the person sitting before me. Perhaps one day I’ll learn those other things, but that won’t change my opinion of you, Dean. You’re a good person.”

“You and Sam can start a fan club of isolated delusionals,” Dean mutters. Nobody thinks this crap but those two, and Dean has no idea how Cas has been tricked into an idea Sam’s had years to sit on and convince himself of.

Cas’ mouth twitches and he places his hand on Dean’s knee, leaning closer. “I don’t mind.”

“You like being a loner, huh?”

“Usually. Though people do have their benefits.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks. “You think I got my benefits?” It annoys him how doubtful his voice sounds to his own ears, since he’d meant the question to be a joke. Funny how praise can do that to a guy, or at least to him.

“Let me show you,” Cas says quietly, and he sounds serious too, enough so that though Dean can pretend all he wants, he knows this is for his benefit, and only his. Cas is trying to make him feel better, or show him something, so he might as well shut up and pay attention.

“Yeah, okay,” he says roughly, sitting back against the tree. “You can show me.”

Cas works him over, kissing up Dean’s jaw and sucking a hickey into his neck right below his ear. He manages to get Dean’s shirt off at one point, and the rough bark of the tree at Dean’s back compared to the softness of Cas’ lips and hands could possibly drive him insane. Cas wrings everything out of him until there’s nothing left for Dean to offer and he’s coming.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and hits his head back against the bark, panting. He feels the warm weight of Cas come to rest along his side, with Cas’ head against his chest. He doesn’t say anything, so Dean says it for him. “Jesus.”

“Indeed,” Cas agrees, amusement coloring his tone in that one word.

Dean takes a few more moments to himself, just breathing in the air and soaking in Cas’ presence, before realizing the other man might need some help, if he’s at all as turned on as Dean was by that. “Hey,” he says, wiggling the arm trapped under Cas so that it nudges him a little. “Up and attem, Cas. I wanna taste you.”

Cas lifts himself off of Dean to look at him, but he doesn’t lie down like he expected. Instead he just studies him, eyes running over his face. “What?” Dean asks self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Cas shrugs. He leans forward to kiss Dean’s forehead, and it feels different somehow, more charged in a way Dean doesn’t understand. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome?” He’s confused as to what he’s being thanked for, but at least there’s an easy appropriate response. “What’re you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” Cas purses his lips and looks so petulant that Dean laughs. The feeling in the air disperses and floats away before Dean can grasp it, like so many other things in his life. Cas grabs the sketchbook and flips it back open to Sam, movements loose and easy. “We creased your brother.”

Dean laughs out loud again, grinning. “Trust me Cas, you probably improved his face.”

***

St. Isadore’s Catholic School, sixth grade. Her name had been Hester, and Castiel had been completely enamored with her. She’d had the straightest, blondest hair Castiel had ever seen, and she could spout off bible verses as easily as counting. She’d wanted to be a nun, so despite the dandelions Castiel picked for her at recess and the Valentine he labored so hard to sign in cursive for her, the relationship was doomed from the beginning.

New York University, sophomore year. Ion rode a motorcycle and smoked and thought art was a destructive force. Castiel would come out of the school’s studio late at night to find him smashing beer bottles in the parking lot. “See the colors?” he’d say. “Art is ruin.” Castiel would sometimes sit and watch, until the lot lights went out and only the security light was left on. Then Ion would offer Castiel a cigarette, and after they’d smoked it he’d drive away on his motorcycle only to return with something to smash the next night, until he didn’t anymore.

These were the two loves of Castiel’s life. They had left it just as quickly as they entered, and he never thought much of them other than that they are two instances in which his feelings got the best of him. Nothing ever came of his time with Hester and Ion, and he thinks he’s old enough now to admit that the only relationships that have affected him are the ones that never really meant anything at all.

Love in the Wild, summer of 2014. Dean Winchester is charming but obnoxious, loyal but quick to anger. He has a low opinion of himself, so low it’s turned into self-hatred. He believes he can do very little, although Castiel has seen hands that can create and soothe and gesture and comfort. He’s fiercely loyal and expects no loyalty in return. Dean is a creature of community who expects nothing less than to end up alone. He is flawed and crushed but has remained unbroken. He is human.

Dean is the third love of Castiel’s life. He’d be okay if there wasn’t a fourth.

Castiel is so very, very fucked.

He’s pretty sure the only reason Dean is acting so couple-y with him is because he knows he won’t have to deal with it once the show ends. From what Sam has told him he can gather that Dean is not comfortable with deep emotions, or at least the ones people can see, and so it makes sense for him to act them out here, where they don’t matter. He’d just had what sounded like a pretty serious break up, and he made it fairly clear that he wanted to remain in a friends with benefits type situation with Castiel, and only for the remainder of their time on the show. Castiel may not know (and sometimes purposely ignore) certain niceties, yet he’s fairly certain telling Dean how he feels now would be unforgivable and pushy when he’s sure Dean doesn’t feel the same way.

So instead he’ll just live with what he can get, for now. It will have to be enough, and maybe one day he’ll be able to look back on Dean like he looks back on Ion and Hester today.

The only problem is, Dean had touched him quite a bit more than Hester and Ion ever had, and Castiel’s not totally sure how to get over that.

So to reiterate, Castiel is completely fucked.

“I don’t suppose you care to share the thoughts currently rattling around in your head?” When Castiel looks up to meet Luke with a blank stare, he smiles slightly. “Good. I’d rather not waste my time listening. Now that I’ve got your attention: Sam went off to fetch his small big brother. We’re going on a little field trip.”

Castiel looks down at his sadly uneaten bowl of cold noodle salad before looking up again. “To where?”

“My secret to tell,” Luke answers. “But at a later date.” He sits across the table from Castiel, looking alert but relaxed as he scans the empty patio. With Jo and Benny off at the Oasis, and Meg thankfully not in sight, their little corner of the world has begun to grow sparse.

They share an awkward but manageable silence as Castiel shovels down as much of his food as he can. However it becomes too unbearable to continue when Luke turns his gaze to him. Usually Castiel would ignore it, but it seems that Luke’s talent in life is his ability to win staring contests. “What?”

“Winchesters are curious creatures, aren’t they?”

“I suppose,” Castiel hedges. “You know more about Sam than I do.”

“And you, Dean,” Luke shrugs. “I’ve surmised they arrive as a package deal.”

“I think that’s a safe assumption.”

“Hmm,” Luke hums. “I suppose I can work with that.”

Castiel honestly doesn’t want to know. He hopes Luke means he can deal with Dean if he wants to hang around Sam, rather than having just decided Dean needs to be less involved in Sam’s life.

At this point Castiel actually kind of likes Luke, but he still couldn’t say which scenario is more realistic. Both are completely plausible.

“Ah, there are the dynamic duo now,” Luke says, and to Castiel’s surprise he stands up to greet Sam. He quickly pushes away from the table and gets up as well, because the last thing he needs is to be the only one sitting for whatever is happening next.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Dean immediately asks as soon as he’s standing by Castiel’s side, and Castiel shakes his head at him.

“We’re going to talk to Gabriel,” Sam supplies. “Luke thinks he can help us.”

“Is that why you were sitting around with your thumbs up your asses for the challenge?” Dean demands, turning to Luke. “Couldn’t you have talked to Gabriel some other time?”

Luke raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you ever see Gabriel anywhere other than at the challenges?”

“Ok, fine,” Dean concedes with a huff, “but you shouldn’t have just thrown away Sam’s chance like that.”

Sam shrugs, “I don’t mind. I’m getting a little tired of being here anyway.”

“Well shit, look who’s talking!”

“Is it possible to have this argument while we walk?” Luke asks calmly. “Gabriel’s cabin is about halfway between here and that building we all started out in.”

“It’s not an argument,” Sam says the same time Dean answers, “I can do anything and walk.”

“Even ride a bike?” Castiel speaks up.

“Shut up, Cas.”

The bickering immediately picks up again, with Sam telling Dean he shouldn’t be rude to Cas and Dean insisting Cas doesn’t mind. Castiel listens with interest. The arguing is heated but doesn’t have any real malice behind it, and he realizes this must be what it’s like to have a sibling. There’s never been anyone in his life he’s been so close to that they argue just for the sake of it. Any argument he had with his father was very much filled with resentment.

Luke doesn’t say anything, just lets Sam and Dean fill the silence. They eventually reach a cabin only a little bigger than the ones used for the contestants, and he strides forward, raising a hand to knock firmly on the wooden door. It opens slowly to reveal Gabriel in a tank top and a pair of flip flops. “Oh ho! Look who’s come to visit!” he exclaims. A small black and white blur shoots out of the cabin behind him, and Castiel watches as a small dog begins attacking Dean’s boots.

“Hey!” Dean barks, shaking the small terrier off of him and moving closer to Castiel.

Sam shoots his brother a dirty look and bends down to pet the wiggling dog.

“Hello Gabriel,” Castiel says. “I understand you can help us with our problem.”

“Yeah, I think I got the right ointment,” he winks, opening the door wider. “All of you idiots get in here. Last thing I need is a camera stumbling onto us. They all think you were headed out to that compound?”

“Of course they do,” Luke says, speaking for the first time and pushing past Gabriel to get inside. Sam follows close after with the small dog at his heels, and Castiel makes sure Dean is done frowning down at his boots before he heads into the cabin as well.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” Gabriel announces to the room at large, setting himself in a comfortable looking armchair by the door. The little dog leaves Sam to go hop onto his lap, and he watches them until they’re all sitting. “Luci-Luke tried explaining to me earlier, but anyone wanna go over this whole mess again?”

“Yeah, Crowley’s a blackmailing asshole,” Dean answers.

“To the point, I like it. Anyone from the peanut gallery wanna add a little more detail for the higher thinking mammals in the room?”

“Crowley intends to keep Dean and I apart for the rest of the show in order to boost ratings,” Castiel explains. “If we don’t comply, he’ll kick us off.”

“Okay, so?” Gabriel shrugs, running a hand over his dog’s back. “You and Chuckles can go back to banging after the show. It’s not like Costa Rica’s got the only beds in the world.”

“It’s the integrity of the matter,” Castiel replies carefully. Now that ending their relationship as soon as the show is over is no longer something he wants to do, he doesn’t particularly feel like trying to explain it.

The group’s attention turns to Dean, and he says, rather lamely. “Hey, I wanna travel.”

Sam shoots him a strange look but doesn’t argue.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Eloquent.” He turns to Luke, who’s sitting rather stiffly next to Sam on the bed. “Why am I helping you, again?”

“You owe me, Gabriel,” Luke says icily.

“This is about Michael, isn’t it?”

“You rigged the game for him,” Luke says coolly. “I don’t see why you can’t do the same for me.”

“Is it really that, or are you just trying to show Michael up again by making this season more exciting than his?” Gabriel demands. “You’ve always got to have all the attention, don’t you Luke? Wasn’t enough that daddy loved you best?”

“Woah woah, hang on,” Sam holds his hands up, “Are you two _brothers_?”

“Luke didn’t tell you?” Gabriel huffs. “That’s fine, I’m only the youngest. He and Michael are usually too busy fighting to notice me anyway.”

“That’s ridiculous Gabriel, I always included you,” Luke narrows his eyes, “So imagine my surprise when you not only help Michael win this stupid game, but you send him off on a trip around the world with the most unpleasant person I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“So what?” Gabriel counters. “Michael likes her. You’re just mad you don’t get as much attention from him as you used to. Boo hoo, poor Luci. Whoever will he spend time with now?”

Luke stares at him. “Was this some convoluted attempt to get me to spend more time with you?”

“I dunno, Luke, was coming on this show some kind of convoluted attempt to prove to Michael you didn’t care he’d found the love of his life?” Gabriel shoots back. “Because I thought maybe it could have been to spend time with me, but this is the first time you’ve visited me the whole show!”

“Wait,” Dean cuts in. “I’m lost. Who the fuck is Michael?”

“Rachel told me Michael and Eve won the show last year,” Castiel says, all the pieces suddenly clicking into place. Luke and Gabriel being brothers is surprising, but now that he thinks about it, he sees a lot of similarities, both in their personalities and in their looks. It sounds as if Gabriel had finally decided Michael needed to move on with his life, and that Luke didn’t like it.

“Michael is our esteemed older brother,” Gabriel says, sarcasm dripping off the words. “He’s not even here and he’s causing fights.”

“If you needed someone to come down here and tuck you in at night then you could have just said so,” Luke told him, frowning.

“Maybe I wanted you to want to give me attention without having to ask,” Gabriel waves him off and turns to Dean and Castiel. “I’m going to help you two schmucks, but not because of my brother and his single-minded need to destroy all familial ties he has. I kinda like you two idiots s'why I told Cas to take advantage of that bridge challenge in the first place. Plus I bet on you to win, and I’m not losing a Benjamin.”

“You’re going to help them for a hundred dollars?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Hey, I’ve done a lot more than screw over my boss for a whole lot less, Sambo,” Gabriel grins. “But yeah, fantastic idea. On top of that, I want a hundred dollars.”

“Fine,” Dean says shortly. “You can have a hundred dollars. Do you even have a plan, or are you just blowing smoke up our asses?”

“Relax Bucko, I have a plan. I’m sure even you have figured out by now that Crowley’s been part of some business deals that aren’t really on the up and up, right?”

Castiel can see where this is going, and wastes no time in asking him, “How are we going to blackmail him?”

“I like the way you think, Casmanian Devil,” Gabriel snaps his fingers. “Most of the people Crowley deals with are the real uppity businessmen who have a certain image to maintain. You know, the suits, the young wives, the limousines. Crowley’d probably lose a lot of their business if they didn’t think he was good for that image anymore. By the way, all this recon is from Bela, and she says that means you owe her a sketch, Cassie-poo.”

Cas shoots Dean a look, and he gives a sheepish smile before asking, “So what, you wanna strip him naked and make him dance the conga in a fruit hat?”

“I don’t think he’ll agree to that, Dean,” Castiel tells him, and Dean sighs in disappointment.

“Has Crowely ever done anything that might upset people?” Sam asks curiously.

“More like Gabriel knows exactly what we can blackmail Crowley with,” Luke says, finally looking relaxed in his seat. “He told us at Christmas last year.”

“Bingo!” Gabriel points at Luke happily. “See, you didn’t even need my help.”

“It’s not like I know exactly how to get it from him, Gabriel. It’s always good to have intel.”

“Duh, you taught me that.”

Castiel’s pretty sure he’s just witnessed the most bizarre apology session ever, but Gabriel continues too fast to leave him much time to think about it. “Anyway, last year at the wrap party good ol’ Bobby got a little drunk and ended up laying one right on Crowley. Crowley, entrepreneurial guy that he is, took a picture for any later blackmailing purpose he might have. All we need to do is get the phone with the picture and viola, instant blackmail for us with absolutely no work put in by you knuckleheads.”

“Crowley’s the one that let the show go in a more LGBTQ friendly direction,” Sam says, shaking his head. “If his partners were going to leave over some gay scandal, wouldn’t it have been that?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “It’s not that he’s kissing Bobby. It’s that he’s kissing _Bobby_ , bearded, trucker hat, wears the same plaid flannel three days straight, Bobby. Crowley’s got an image too, Sambo. He won’t want his buddies seeing that.”

“Yeah Sam, this could work,” Dean says, leaning forward in his seat. “So how do we get it?”

“It’s on his phone, which he’s always got with him.”

“Well, fuck.”

“It’ll be on the Cloud,” Luke says calmly. “We can pull it off of his computer.”

Dean shoots a confused look at Castiel, who just shrugs at him. As far as he knows, clouds are made of droplets of water and will be no help here.

“It’s a digital way of storing things,” Sam explains in exasperation. “If you’re connected to the Cloud, you can grab any of your data from any device on any other device. So Crowley’s computer should be able to grab anything off of his phone.”

“Oh,” Dean says, although Castiel can tell he’s having a little trouble believing it. He knows he is. “Great. So all we have to do is sneak into his office, get onto his computer, and get the picture.”

“Exactly,” Gabriel says, beaming like a mother who’s just seen their child take their first steps.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Luke asks him dryly.

“I couldn’t be prouder,” Gabriel agrees. “Now seriously, get the fuck out of my cabin. This job pays for Tootsie’s food, I’d like to keep it if I can.”

“Tootsie?” Sam asks.

“The dog,” Luke tells him. “Gabriel thinks it looks like a fat little Tootsie Roll.”

“Fuck you, he does,” Gabriel says good-naturedly, holding open the door. “I’ll see you all tomorrow night at that joke of a ceremony.”

“Do you think this will work?” Castiel questions quietly as he follows Dean out of the cabin.

“Fuck, it better. No offense to Bela, but if I have to hear her say penalize like ‘peenalize’ one more time, I’m gonna shoot myself.”


	10. Chapter 9

The ceremony is boring and pointless, just like Gabriel said it would be. Dean knows Gabriel knows it too, because he spends way longer than he needs to talking over Benny and Jo’s night at the Oasis, Meg and Cas’ relationship, and teasing Dean over the supposed calf eyes he likes to make at Bela.

There’s no way the show can even use all the footage he made them shoot tonight. It succeeds in pissing Dean off though, which is probably what Gabriel wanted all along.

It explains why Dean isn’t feeling too favorable towards him when Gabriel catches him as he and Bela were heading back to their cabin.

“Hey, Dean-a-reano! Wait up!”

"Is there a reason our small elf of a host is following us?” Bela asks.

“Probably to give me more shit,” Dean grumbles, turning around. “Jesus Gabriel, if I’d known this whole thing was gonna cost a hundred bucks plus an increase in how annoying you were, I mighta reconsidered.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Judging by the way you’re always drooling over Cas, I’d say that’s complete bull shit, bucko.”

That’s probably true, but Dean doesn’t need reminding how deep he’s getting into it with Cas. It’s like the harder they try to get together for this damn competition, the more time Dean wants to spend with him. And not just within the competition. Like period. Yesterday after he’d spent hours watching Cas sketch, he’d decided he wanted to show him his workshop and all his different carving tools until he remembered Cas didn’t have a reason to ever be in his part of Kansas. “What do you want?”

“It’s time for our little double oh seven moment,” Gabriel glances at Bela before looking back at Dean. “Unless you’ve decided drooling on Cas is all you still want to do.”

“Right now?” Dean frowns. “Dude, we just came up with that plan tonight!”

“Do I look like I sit around on my ass waiting for things to happen?” Gabriel demands. “I make crap up, I execute it. Then if it doesn’t work out for me the shit storm passes that much faster. We’re doing it now or not at all, capice?” He looks at Bela again, frowning this time, “You in on this too, queenie?”

“Of course not,” Bela replies smoothly, as if she knows exactly what they’re talking about. Dean can’t help but snort at the attitude, until he remembers where Gabriel got most of his information. “Plausible deniability. Dean, you still owe me a sketch, or whatever it is you boys are about to do is going to become public very quickly.”

“Woah, sweetheart,” Gabriel holds his hands up. "Ix-nay on the job jeopardizing threats-ay. Dean-o here is a man of his word.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. How the hell did he get stuck with these two alone? Where were Sam and Cas? “Relax Bela, I watched Cas draw all day yesterday. You can have one of his damn pictures. Gabriel, just…go get Cas or something.”

“Already done, lover boy. Cas is out there hiding in the woods with big brother Luci and equally big man Samasorous Rex. They’re keeping out of sight of those pesky but loveable PAs so they can help us out.”

“Us? What the hell are you going to do?”

“I’m the charming comic relief. Between my brother and the Stoic Wonder, you’ll be glad I’m there. Now come on, time’s a wasting. Crowley can only pretend to be interested by everything captured on film today for so long.”

Bela must have gotten bored with the conversation, or had decided it was too incriminating for her to hear, because Dean watches her walk away as he asks Gabriel, “Is that what Crowley is doing?”

“Sure, how do you think he knows what to torture all you poor saps with?” Gabriel shrugs. “You didn’t think all of this stuff was preplanned, did you?”

“I have no idea what I think of the TV industry anymore,” Dean mutters. He doubts he’s ever going to be able to watch a reality show the same way ever again. Whenever Sam’s pretending not to watch Say Yes to the Dress, Dean’s going to be wondering just how much the poor chick on TV actually wants to say yes.

Just to clarify – he doesn’t watch Say Yes to the Dress. Sam does. He just happens to watch it in the family room, where Dean’s couch is. He gets held fucking hostage by indecisive women, about a million miles of white tulle and his giant, starry eyed girl of a brother.

“Eh. Sorry to break your idealistic bubble, kid,” Gabriel says, not sounding sorry at all. “Now you ready to go, or not?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean says, waiting for Gabriel to start walking before following him around the back of the pavilion used for the ceremony and into the trees. “Is this really a five person job?”

Gabriel glances back at him, the trees blocking the moon and shadowing his face so that Dean can’t see his expression. “More like a one person, maybe two if you’re pansy enough to need a look out.”

“So why the hell do we need Sam and Luke? Or you?”

"Because it’ll sound more impressive when they write the epic poem about our little adventure,” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take what’s being offered Winchester, or people are going to begin to think your whining is a cry for attention.”

“Fuck you,” Dean growls. It’s great if Sam wants to stay and help. Awesome even. He just didn’t need to, and Dean really didn’t want Sam here because he felt obligated or some other stupid reason like that.

Thankfully Cas hasn’t been run off by Sam or Luke, and is listening with a bemused expression as they talk about…Dean thinks he hears the words ‘baby oil’ and immediately tunes out from there. “We’re here,” he announces loudly, speaking over Sam, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Hello, Dean,” Luke says amiably. “Your brother was just telling me an interesting story.”

"Yeah, I’m sure it was fantastic,” he answers gruffly, absolutely not wanting to slow down long enough to hear this one. “Are you two going to be useful during this thing, or are you going to spend the whole time convincing me I wish I had bleach to scrub my brain with?”

“Sam was explaining how your father taught you to use oil in order to slip your hands between security bars when you were younger,” Cas tells him, cocking his head. “Is that a bad memory for you?”

“No, but the time he had me break my thumb is,” he says shortly, ignoring the slightly hurt look on Cas’ face.

“Dean,” Sam frowns at him, and the look on his face makes Dean feel instantly chastised for snapping at Cas. Goddamned puppy dog eyes.

He couldn’t help snapping. He was nervous as hell.

Dean had probably pulled more than a hundred jobs much harder than this one in his entire life. He’d stolen everything from a loaf of bread to famous works of art. He’d spent one of his summers getting run out of small towns for terrorizing the people that lived there with his antics. Printing a picture off of a computer belonging to a complete asshole like Crowley should be nothing to him, especially with four other people apparently there to help him. Like taking candy from a baby.

Fact of the matter is, Dean has been on the straight and narrow for a few years now, and he’s been proud of himself for it. Without John as a constant presence in his life, he’s been able to do his own thing, and to become as much of an actual person as he can be. Preparing to dive back into that kind of activity, no matter how shallow a dive it is, is bringing back all sorts of memories Dean would rather not deal with.

Sam must have figured that out to some extent, because he didn’t ride Dean about it more like he might have otherwise. Cas is also beginning to edge close to him, a concerned look in his eye, and it figures Cas would finally begin to start showing emotion only in response to Dean’s numerous emotional fuck ups.

“So is there a plan, or were you all waiting for me to come up with something?” he asks, not looking at Cas. Maybe if he stops looking at him Cas’ll stop getting closer and spare him the embarrassment of standing by his side or whatever sappy shit he’s planning on pulling.

"Of course, we’d want to defer to your valuable experience,” Luke smiles, and Dean wonders how much Sam has told him.

“How long have we got?” he says, turning away from Luke and shooting a glare at an amused looking Gabriel.

“Hour, hour and a half?” he says. “I don’t exactly study the man’s habits. Just know he’s not there right now.”

“Fantastic information,” Dean says sarcastically. “Would it be weird for you to go wherever he is and watch the clips with him?”

“Huh,” Gabriel says, looking off into the distance. “Would it be weird for me to do my actual job…you know, it might be.”

“Jesus Christ.,” Dean sees the telltale bulge in Sam’s pocket that had been missing of late. He must have gotten his phone off of a PA before coming to meet them. “Sam, give him your number. Gabriel, go do your damn job and text Sam when Crowley leaves. Sam, you and Luke hang around outside the office. You see anybody who might be trouble or get the text from Gabe, you give me the signal, alright? You remember it?” he barely waits for Sam to nod before he continues, “Good. Cas, you’re with me. We’ll break into the office and get the damn picture and be back here at the cabins before any of the PAs realize Sam and Luke haven’t left yet. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas replies, staring at him with a slightly wide eyed expression. Sam looks like he’s about to cry, and Dean hopes to God it’s just because he’s suddenly decided to think of how Toy Story 3 ended.

“Damn, Cap’n,” Gabriel whistles. “Was anybody else just a little turned on by that? You’re a natural bossypants there, aren’t ya, Dean-o.”

“Gabriel,” Dean says, running a hand over his face. “Shut up and go find Crowley.”

“Aye aye.” Gabriel stands at attention and clicks his heels together, glancing at Luke before heading off into the trees.

Luke of course, is smirking, and Dean points accusingly at him. “Don’t encourage him.”

“I’ve been encouraging him his entire life, why should I stop now that you’ve noticed?”

“Because I’m letting you hang out with Sam, which means you’re gonna have to be less of an asshole.”

“You’re letting me hang out with Sam,” Luke repeats, completely toneless. This is probably the point where Dean should shut up, but that point has never stopped him before.

“Yeah, as in, ‘without my fucking permission you wouldn’t be hanging around with my little brother’.”

Luke opens his mouth to say something (something dumb) but Sam grabs him by the arm, steering him around Dean and Cas. “Come on, Luke, we’ll walk a bit ahead,” he says, shooting Dean his, ‘why are you such a fucking jerk’ glare. The way Luke’s moving makes it pretty clear Sam wouldn’t be able to move him anywhere unless Luke wanted him to, which Dean grudgingly gives him points for.

He doesn’t know what’s pissing him off, but he thinks it’s a combination of what they’re doing, the Crowley situation to begin with, and that he’s trying to forget as soon as they’ve got the picture, Sam is going home. At the same time as Luke, without Dean around to make sure Luke actually goes the fuck back to wherever the hell he lives.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks as soon as Luke and Sam are out of earshot.

“I’m fine,” Dean replies. “Just the last time I did something illegal, I went to jail.”

"I’m sure I can handle this alone, if you want to go back to the cabin,” Cas says without hesitation. “Sam and Luke are around to help.”

“You think I’m gonna let you guys put yourselves at risk doing something for me?” Dean snorts in disbelief. “You don’t think very highly of me, d’ya Cas?”

Cas frowns. “This is for me as well,” he points out. “It’s alright to admit you’d rather not do something Dean. You’re not a machine programmed to do anything it’s told. Besides which, we wouldn’t be doing this for you if we didn’t think very highly of you.”

As tempting as it is to just let Sam and Cas handle everything, it’s not an idea Dean entertains even for a second. He’s always done things for himself, and he’s not about to stop now. Bowing out on this one seems more cowardly than anything else, no matter how much Cas tries to convince him it’s okay.

“I think I can manage,” Dean says dismissively, and at the look on Cas’ face he softens his tone. “Look, I’m fine, alright? There’s no reason to get all worked up about it.”

The damn compound is looming over them once again. It’s getting pretty tiresome hiking through a jungle just to get from one place to another, but at this time next week Dean’ll be back in his woodshop in Kansas, covered in sawdust and sweat and looking forward to his trip around the world with Cas.

Course if they win the trip there’ll be planes involved, but he can worry about that later.

Sam and Luke must be around the back, because Dean doesn’t see them. The front door opens for them easily enough, but when Cas directs him to the door that leads into Crowley’s office, they find a thick, wood paneled door with a fucking iron lock.

“What Is this, the damn Tower of London?” Dean asks, drawing his lock pick kit from his inside jacket pocket. Not that he uses it much anymore, but h used to always carry it around, and old habits die hard.

“It is rather extreme. I didn’t see anything valuable in there.” Cas watches Dean intently as he selects one of his longer picks, his eyes squinted, which for Cas is like, level ten focus.

“Probably because you weren’t looking very hard,” Dean says, sliding the pick in. It takes him about five minutes, kind of disappointing for a guy that used to be able to get in a locked room in under a minute, but finally he hears the tumblers turn over and pushes the door open, straightening up from his crouched position and finding Cas right in his space. “Cas?”

“That was strangely attractive to watch,” Cas informs him, and Dean has to cross his eyes in order to see his face.

“Probably because it means I’m so capable and manly,” Dean says with a cocky grin.

“Ah, that explains it. Capability and manliness are two of my kinks.” Cas steps back and leads the way into Crowley’s office, leaving Dean to trail after him.

“Wait, what kinks?”

Cas is already at the computer, brow furrowed as he stares at the screen. “Do you know the password?”

“What?” It’s an instinctive question. He should’ve guessed there’d be a fucking password. Sam put one on his laptop just to keep Dean from searching for porn on it, of course Crowley is going to have one if he’s even got half the shit Gabriel implied on there.

“There’s a password,” he says again. “It’s not Crowley.”

Dean laughs despite the situation, looking around the room. “Fuck man, we’re going to have to figure it out. The only one who might know is Gabriel, and I was too stupid to get his number.”

“Again, Dean, you’re not a machine. You can’t predict every outcome.” Castiel types something into the computer and frowns as it fails to be the password he needed.

“Still, shoulda seen it coming,” Dean mutters, glancing around the room. There’s a filing cabinet in the corner behind Cas, but other than that and the desk the room is empty. “Look around, there’s gotta be some kind of clue.”

“Is that how this usually works?”

“No,” Dean says, starting to feel frantic as he begins rifling through the things on Crowley’s desk, “Usually I’m cracking a safe and all I need is a six digit code, which is pretty much always a date. This could be anything.”

“So passwords are usually something meaningful to you,” Cas says, opening one of the desk drawers.

“Yeah, you know, something about what you love, something personal to you…”

“Crowley seems to like himself most of all, don’t you think?” Cas asks. “So perhaps the password has something to do with him.”

It’s a logical thought, and Dean says without thinking, “Sure, try hell. Everyone’s got a soft spot for home sweet home.”

“You’re good at this.”

It’s the note of wonderment in Cas’ voice that makes Dean look up from studying Crowley’s Word of the Day Calendar. The day’s word was penultimate, which was a bit foreboding. “What am I good at?”

“All of this,” Cas says, not looking away from the computer as he waves a hand around him in a way Dean takes to mean thieving in general.

“Wait, are you _kidding_ me? Hell was his password? I can’t believe you even typed that in!”

“I have faith in you.” Cas pauses briefly in whatever he’s doing to frown at Dean. “Stop doubting yourself.”

It’s a command, like Dean can just do it because Cas told him to, and it’s said with such conviction, like he actually believes that Dean can. He wishes he had as much faith in himself.

“You having trouble?” Dean asks instead, hoping to god he isn’t. His computer knowledge is confined strictly to how to take the damn thing apart and put it back together. He has no clue how programming works.

“No,” Cas tilts his head at the screen. “I think I found it.”

Dean rounds the desk quickly, eager to see this damn picture that’s supposed to be so incriminating. And he’s gotta admit, it’s pretty hilarious. Bobby’s featured in all of his trucker hat-ed glory, eyes squeezed shut and lips puckered. Crowley’s looking at the camera and somehow still managing to smirk, even with his mouth occupied. He stares at it for longer than is normal, but he chalks it up to horrified fascination.

“Should we print it out?” Cas asks him. “Or do you want me to send it somewhere?”

“Print it out. If I’m gonna be forced to stoop to blackmail, we’re gonna do it the old fashioned way.”

As the printer on the desk takes its sweet time printing out the picture, Cas lifts his head to the ceiling before turning to Dean, frowning. “Are you playing music?”

“No?” Dean looks at him in confusion before realization slowly dawns on him. “Shit. Is it Eye of the Tiger?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to answer. The printer has finally stopped whirring, and he whips the photo out before beckoning to Cas. “That’s Sam. Time to go, Cas.” Stuffing the photo into his pocket, he waits until Cas leaves the room before quickly setting the lock and shutting the door. Cas looks excited at the prospect of getting caught, which Dean is going to ignore before he convinces himself to let it happen just so he can get some action in with him. Seems like he still hasn’t gotten rid of the adrenaline junkie in him.

Leading Cas quickly down the hallway, he rounds the corner and finds himself face to face with a very unsurprised Crowley. “Winchester,” he says smoothly. “And his trusty sidekick Castiel. Didn’t I tell you two to stay away from one another?”

“We’re not currently on camera,” Cas points out innocently.

“Exactly what are you two gents doing here so late at night?”

“Trying to get back into the kitchen,” Dean says without skipping a beat. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t ask me bloody ridiculous questions,” Crowley snaps. “You two should be in your cabins, with your adoring partners. Get back there and don’t let me catch you two together again, on or off the fucking camera!”

Dean scowls darkly as Crowley steps neatly around them and is gratified to see Cas looks like he wants to punch somebody in the face. “C’mon,” he mutters. “We better go before Sam starts crying with worry.”

  ***

Sam is not prone to freaking out.

It’s not like he’s really worried about Crowley catching his brother. Dean’s pretty good at what he does, and even if he does slip up Sam’s studying to be a lawyer for christ’s sake. He’s sure they could work out some kind of deal if it came right down to it.

What he’s more worried about is what it might do to Dean if they get caught. He hadn’t even considered how his brother might be feeling about having to steal again, even something as insignificant as a picture off of a computer. But Dean had definitely been snapping and acting just like a jerkoff who didn’t want to talk about his feelings, and Sam had managed to catch the glint of apprehension in his eyes when he’d volunteered to go into the office.

Sam had thought Dean was over getting caught and going to jail a long time ago. Clearly, he wasn’t.

Maybe it wasn’t the best time to be shoving Dean at other people, trying to get them to fulfill his emotional needs. If Dean was still that messed up on the inside, falling in love wasn’t going to help that any, right?

“I played the song five minutes ago,” he says aloud, “Shouldn’t they be out here by now?”

Luke shrugs, looking unconcerned. “Perhaps they ran into complications.”

“Then we should go help them!”

“Do the words ‘self-preservation’ mean anything to you?” Luke asks calmly, leaning against a tree to watch Sam pace around with interest. “You say Dean is good at this, so let him be. Personally I find it hard to believe your brother is graceful enough to pull this off, but I’m choosing to trust you.”

"Gee, thanks,” Sam says sarcastically. “Do you think you guys could cool it already? I don’t need my brother and my…my…”

“My what?” Luke asks, sounding less anticipatory than if he had just asked what the soup of the day was.

“Boyfriend or something,” Sam mutters, looking towards the compound so he doesn’t have to see Luke’s face.

Luke barks out a laugh, and Sam turns in surprise at the noise. “Fine, Sam. As your—" he pauses, smiling a little, and Sam can’t tell if it’s mocking or genuine, “boyfriend, I’ll try not to goad your brother into pointless arguments he’s doomed to lose.”

“That’s incredibly generous of you. Are you sure you don’t want to save it for Christmas?”

“Don’t be bitter, pup. I can think of another nice thing to do for you on Christmas,” Luke says. “Your brother sleeps in the room next to you, right? How’s your sound proofing?”

“Do you two ever talk about anything but sex?” Dean complains, emerging from the darkened path with Cas. “Christ, have you even had it? Maybe if you did you wouldn’t have to keep telling people about it.”

Sam hasn’t blushed since he was fourteen, but he can feel his face heating up slightly as Luke shoots Dean an unreadable look. “Mind your business, Dean. Did you get the picture?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Dean says, pulling the flap of his jacket back to reveal a piece of paper stuffed in the pocket. “We gotta go make copies. Come on.”

“Luke and I have to go,” Sam says regretfully. “Jody’s gonna kill us if she sees we’re still here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean’s face smoothes into an expressionless mask as he closes his jacket back up. “Well. Bye Sam. I’ll see you in a week when this whole mess is done with. Don’t get too comfortable having my couch to yourself.”

Sam sighs in exasperation and moves forward, pulling Dean into a hug. He’s stiff at first, before relaxing and patting Sam on the back. “Have a good time, alright?” Sam asks. “I just hope you come back happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you giant sap,” Dean says, pulling away from him and looking at Luke. “I dunno where the fuck you live or where the fuck you’re going, but if Sam decides to let you hang around while I’m gone, remember this: hurt him and they’ll never find your body.”

“Thank you, that’s very touching,” he says pleasantly.

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Come on Cas. I bet Jody has a copier we can use somewhere.”

“I’d like to say goodbye to your brother and Luke,” Cas says unexpectedly. “You go ahead.”

“Alright,” Dean shoots Sam a suspicious look, like this is all his fault. “I’ll see you back at the cabins, Cas.”

“What do you want?” Sam asks as soon as Dean leaves, looking at Castiel. He knows he can’t care that much about saying goodbye, and he definitely shouldn’t have to do it without Dean here. “Is something wrong with my brother?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I asked him how he was sent to jail, and he told me. Now I want to hear your story, as promised.”

Sam doubts Dean told Cas anything at all. If Cas had really believed him, he wouldn’t be coming to Sam. He knew Dean still thought the whole thing was his fault, but he’d hoped maybe talking it out with Cas would help him assuage some of the guilt. It looks like he hadn’t even tried to talk to him at all though, and had reverted to his self hating bull crap.

Sam doesn’t like telling stories that aren’t his to tell, but it’s becoming more and more clear to him that Dean and Cas have this weird connection. Whether it’s romantic or not, it’s definitely something that could help his brother. Dean liked to pretend his life was fine because he had a job and until recently, a place to live, but the only two people he’d hung out with were Cassie and Sam, and they didn’t go out much. Dean needed another person in his life, one that wasn’t going to leave him, and right now the determined look Cas is giving him makes Sam want to believe he can be that person.

Dean’s getting attached. Castiel is much harder to read, but Sam thinks he’s getting attached too. He better be, for Dean’s sake.

“Ok, look,” Sam begins, acutely aware that Luke is also listening. He’s telling Cas, so it really shouldn’t matter, but telling Luke as well somehow feels like more to him. “My dad started giving Dean massive amounts of responsibility when he was seven. He never even had a chance to be a kid, our dad had him cooking and lying to his classmates and eventually started taking him out on jobs. But the one big thing he always told Dean to do was to look after me, so he didn’t have to. Dean took it really seriously, and I think he still does today.” Sam scowls as he remembers the constant _Dean, look after Sammy_. He’d hated it, and had even resented Dean a few times for being so good at it. He’d stopped being mad at Dean when he realized how he got punished for the few times he didn’t watch Sam as carefully as John thought he should have been.

“When I was thirteen, dad went off on a really big job. He was gone for months, and Dean wouldn’t tell me anything. After a few weeks he stopped eating dinner, and then a week after that he told me there wasn’t any more food.” Sam feels the familiar anger welling up inside him, and he forces it back down before he starts punching things. He put a hole through a wall once, but a tree trunk probably isn’t going to be as forgiving. “He went off to go get some. I think he got too ambitious, tried to get me the good shit instead of just some bread and peanut butter. Anyway, he got caught. Store owner was a real asshole about it, insisted on pressing full charges. He didn’t tell anyone about me, made some other dumb excuse about the food so they wouldn’t send me to a home.” Sam’s mouth twists bitterly. “Dad came back a couple of days after that.”

He looks up at Cas, whose lips are pursed in an angry line. “He said we couldn’t go pick Dean up because they might take me away too. And I always thought he kind of figured Dean deserved a bit of punishment for letting them catch him. Dad never fucked up a job.”

“But you ended up in a foster home anyway,” Cas says quietly.

“Right?” Sam laughs bitterly. “So it wasn’t even worth it. But Dean’s definitely convinced himself he deserved it, that it was some stupid, fucked up punishment for not being able to feed me when he didn’t even have any money, or something stupid like that.”

“I think your father and mine would have gotten along well,” Luke tells him, and Sam realizes he’s moved closer, so that his shoulder is brushing Sam’s.

“Your father had better hope I never meet him,” Cas says grimly, and Sam’s surprised by how upset he looks. It’s upsetting sure, but Cas looks like he’s taking it personally. “I’ll go help Dean now.”

“Cas,” Sam says, because he wants to test something, and Cas looks at him, eyes wary. “If you don’t care about him, then stop pretending.”      

Cas’ brow furrows. “I’m not,” he says simply, and he’s gone before Sam can say anything else.

“Interesting, isn’t it,” Luke remarks. “Watching two emotionally dumb people slowly figure out love. It’s like a slow motion car wreck.”

Sam shoots him a look. “Something you’d never do, right?”

Luke’s face is bordering on appalled. “’Love is for the weak’ is still a relevant quote, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” Sam smirks. “Then why did you help Dean and Cas? You didn’t get anything out of it.”

“Of course I did. You heard Gabriel. This season is going to be much better than last season when those two win. Everyone’s going to forget all about Michael and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude. It’ll kill him.”

“And you did it for me,” Sam says with conviction.

“What?”

“Because you like me,” he continues, nodding decisively.

Luke is silent as they begin walking, kicking dirt and leaves out of their path.

"Maybe even lo—“

“Be quiet, Sam.”

***

“So how did your little illicit activity go? Did you manage to steal a cookie from the cookie jar?”

This is the third time Bela’s tried to get him to talk about what they were doing last night, so Dean just smiles sunnily at her. Bela seems unperturbed, turning away from him. "I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Thought you didn’t want to know?” Dean asks her.

“Yes, that was before it happened. Now that it’s happened, I could use it to my advantage.”

Dean remembers Cas still hasn’t given her a sketch and is briefly worried she’s somehow going to figure out what they’re doing and get to Crowley before them. He’d managed to catch a few moments with Cas that morning, and although he’d seen a picture of a women looking remarkably like Bela (with devil horns drawn on, which Dean thought was hilarious, even more so when Cas wouldn’t tell him whether they were permanent or not) he still hadn’t handed Dean anything to give to her. “You’re getting your damn picture, okay? I saw it. You’ll love it so much you’ll wanna hang it on your wall.”

“I’m sure I’d rather be rolling in the piles of money it should make me,” Bela huffs. “Just make sure it gets done.”

“I know this is probably going to be confusing for you, but despite the tank top and ridiculous shorts, I’m not actually one of your manservants.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All of the men in my employ have decent haircuts.” She turns to face front just in time for Gabriel to arrive. Joke’s on her anyway. Sam’s the one with the ridiculous hair of the family, not him. His hair belongs in GQ.

Gabriel is dressed in a tux and has his hair slicked back. Dean hopes it’s hot as fuck. When he’d forked over his hundred dollars last night (paid mostly in twenties, fives, and a few crumpled up ones whose intended destination he would never reveal, unless Cas wanted to come to the strip club with him or something) Gabriel had tucked the money inside his shirt, patted his chest where it lay, winked at Dean and left without a backwards glance. So even though Gabriel had helped them, he still rubbed Dean the wrong way. Cas says it’s because their, “Outlook on life has a similar root in a childlike need to please others.”

Cas is lucky Dean likes him, or he’d be more upset about being called an immature dick.

“Dearly beloved,” Gabriel begins solemnly, raising his hands to the sky. “We are gathered here today because all you suckers are this much closer to getting stuck on a first class world tour with your partner. But hey, to each their own, right? You all made it this far, so you must like each other.”

Dean sneaks a glance at Meg, standing next to Cas and nodding along like she agrees with every word Gabriel is saying. Dean doesn’t think he’s a particularly mean person, but he really can’t wait to see Meg’s face when he and Cas get back together at the next ceremony. Cas had said something about compassion, and Meg’s reasons for doing what she did sounding sad (although Cas wouldn’t go into details) and Dean could sympathize. He really could. He just didn’t want to. What could he say, he was fast to anger and slow to forgive. It was a fault.

“Because you’re all obviously so perfect for one another,” Gabriel closes his eyes, and Dean figures he’s repressing an eye roll for the cameras, “our challenges no longer really need lessons. It’s fun and games from here on out, kiddies. So tell me, do you think your partner is a gold digger?”

“Are we talking real gold, or family jewels here?” Benny asks, “because I got a different answer for each.”

“My mom watches this show!” Jo protests loudly, smacking him on the arm.

“Ow! Relax darlin’ Ellen likes me.”

“Ellen’s gonna castrate you,” Dean informs him cheerfully. “And yeah, Gabriel, Bela would dig through a sewer for a nugget of gold.”

“Not for anything less than ten thousand, I wouldn’t.”

“C’mon guys,” Gabriel says in fake exasperation. “You were supposed to say no and giggle. Cas?”

“No?” Cas tries.

“Now giggle.”

Cas just stares at him.

“I’ll giggle if you give me some incentive,” Meg offers generously. “I like tequila.”

“GABRIEL!” Bobby roars from the head camera. “I AIN’T USING ANY OF THIS!”

"Oh come on old man, this is the first time I’ve gotten some genuine character out of them!” Gabriel shouts back.

“Straighten up, Gabriel!” Jody calls, and Gabriel makes a face. He could back and forth with Bobby all day, but Dean once caught Jody force feeding dinner to a cameraman who’d skipped it in order to catch Gilda and Charlie making out a while back, and that’s not a force to be reckoned with.

“So anyway,” Gabriel sighs. “Today you’re searching for gold. Or more like a brick painted gold. It’s buried treasure, basically, and the only way to find buried treasure is with a map. We’re not giving you the map though, because that would be too easy. Instead, we’re giving you a diagram, and with that diagram you are going to find two map pieces, which will create the map to find three other map pieces that’ll tell you where your chest is.”

Dean fucking hates this show.

“It’s probably going to be more fun for me than anyone else,” Gabriel finishes, grinning. “I also get the fun task of telling you that there’s no Oasis tonight, but tomorrow’s Couple’s Choice Ceremony is going to have a twist. Stakes are high, folks. So, if there are no questions….go.”

"You ever wonder if it’s all worth it?” Dean asks Bela as he stoops down to pull their diagram out of the backpack provided for them.

“Since I don’t half-ass anything, it all is worth it,” she says matter-of-factly. “What does the damn diagram say?”

“Around and around trees I wind, in a monkey’s hands you’d probably find.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bela says loudly.

Dean agrees. Fucking riddles. And not even good ones. He straightens back up, looking around. “You see a bunch of vines anywhere around here?”

They’re in their hundredth (and Dean hopes to god it’s their last) field, although this one feels more like a forest clearing than an actual field. The trees surrounding the edges are tall with a large amount of branches and leaves, and Dean catches sight of one wrapped in a particularly heavy amount of vines the same time Bela points at it and says, “There.”

As they’re walking to it they pass Cas, who’s murmuring the couplet under his breath to himself while Meg looks on, bored. It sounds like his map pieces are in a completely different place, which is fortunate, because Dean has no idea how they’d hide what they were doing from everyone, Benny and Jo actually end up finding their map piece in the grass beside the tree they’re heading to, and Dean quickly sees a duplicate of the small tube Benny is holding tied to one of the vines about midway up the tree. Standing on his tiptoes, he yanks it off and tosses it at Bela.     

Cas is kneeling in a small patch of flowers a few yards away, his own found tube in his hand. The picture he makes looks like something straight out of a Disney movie, and Dean turns his attention to the next riddle before his brain can think anymore stupid thoughts.

“Dirt, dig, deep, dark, I’m what you can’t see but still made of bark.”

Bela sighs loudly. “Roots. Its roots. Surely they don’t believe I possess the mental capacity of a four year old? You, maybe, but they could have at least given us the intermediate riddles.”

“Bite me,” Dean snaps. On the other side of the clearing is a tree whose roots rise out of the ground and create a noticeable tangle that almost looks like a cage, and he heads for it, not caring whether Bela is following or not.

He quickly finds the tube and gets it out from between the roots, opening the top and sliding the folded piece of paper out. “Gimme the other half.”

"You could say please,” Bela retorts, slapping her half of the map into his hands.

“That would require me being polite to you, and you don’t deserve it,” Dean tells her, sliding the two pieces together. The map wants to take them to a group of horses, which they’ll ride down a dirt road to the starting location for the next three map pieces.

Dean glances worryingly at Cas. His bandages had come off a couple of days ago, but Dean knew injuries didn’t go away so easily. Plus he was actually partnered with Meg this time, and Dean wouldn’t put it past her to push anyone off a horse. If Cas got hurt again…

“Well, well, if looks could kill,” Bela says, raising an eyebrow. “What did Meg do to you, then?”

“None of your business, Bela,” he says, stuffing the map pieces into the backpack. He’s so tired of all of this. There’s no way he’s going to spend any more time with Bela than he has to, so there’s no point to this activity designed to spend time with a loved one.    

He wishes he were partnered with Cas.

“Come on. We have to go ride horses.”

“Fantastic. I like nothing better than to sit astride a giant beast that smells of manure.”

Horses don’t really need him to defend them, because horses are fucking awesome. They know it and Dean knows it, so he keeps silent. Instead he finds the path they’re supposed to take to the horses, and they only have to go about a quarter mile before they reach them.

“Well which one am I supposed to take?” Bela asks in disgust. Dean’s already chosen the big black mare that looks just like the one he rode in the challenge with Cas. He pets her nose, letting her nuzzle into his hand as he looks over the other horses. “Take the chestnut,” he finally says. The red horse looks graceful and will probably annoy Bela less with her walk, which means Dean hopefully won’t hear as much bitching.

Thankfully Bela doesn’t feel like spiting him at the moment, because she gets on the horse he suggested. Dean lets her walk ahead so he can control how fast they go and hopefully help her if she gets into trouble.

“Are we in first place?” she calls back to Dean.

Dean shrugs. “Does it matter?”

The Costa Rican jungle is kind of like the plains of the Midwest. If you’ve seen it once you’ve seen it all. And although Dean feels like he actually has seen every inch of the damn place, he knows realistically he’s seen maybe three miles of it.

It’s all green leaves and tall trees to him.

Turns out they’re not in first place. Benny and Jo catch up to them fairly quickly, since both of them seem to know how to ride a horse, and Dean is stuck going a pace Bela can manage. Cas and Meg surprisingly aren’t far behind, and Dean is relieved to see Cas seems to be sitting the horse well, rocking with the movement like Dean had told him to do the first time around.

It doesn’t take long for Dean to start feeling like he’s leading a caravan, but luckily they reach the end of the main path. Here it branches off into three different directions, and supposedly there’s a map piece in a cave, in an alcove under a waterfall, and on a cliff top.

All Dean can say is, it better actually be on the cliff top. He’s not jumping off anything higher than five feet off the ground ever again.

Benny and Jo quickly decide they want to go to the waterfall first, dismounting their horses and handing them over to the waiting PAs before they take off.

“Cave first,” Dean tells Bela. He figures the cave should be easier than the cliff top, and although he really likes Benny and Jo he doesn’t want to follow them around. Being the only couple on the show that actually like one another could get a bit annoying for him.

Maybe he’s a little bitter. So what.

“Sure, I’ll just follow you, shall I?” Bela says ruefully, giving the reins of her horse over to a PA without a second glance. Dean takes his time to thank his horse and pat her nose one last time before he hands her off. When he turns away, he sees that Cas and Meg are already walking in the direction of the cave.

“Sorry,” the PA holding his horse says apologetically. “You two have to go to the cliff. We were given instructions not to let you and Castiel travel to the same place.”

"I’ll bet you were,” Dean mutters bitterly. So not only is Crowley forcing him away from Cas, he’s forcing him towards a cliff. Everything about this just keeps getting better and better.

Bela seems to realize Dean isn’t going to start walking until she does, so she sets off. “I hope you’re going to remember all I did for you when you win the bloody trip. I might ask you to pick up a few things for me.”

“I’m not picking anything up for you,” Dean says automatically. He knows anything Bela will want would require him to break out his lock pick yet again. “Anyway, if I win, it’d be with you, wouldn’t it?”

“Please, how stupid do you think I am?” Bela asks. Dean opens his mouth to give a smart ass remark, but she speaks over him. “Obviously whatever you idiots were doing last night had something to do with you and Cas getting back together for the finale. I know I’ll be going home.”

“You don’t seem too concerned about it.”

“I got very bored here, very quickly,” she sighs. “I’ve taken everything of value. I absolutely hate downtime, it’s such a waste of money.”

Bela’s answer is surprising, if not relieving. At least now Dean knows he won’t have to be concerned about her being angry with him for dumping her. Knowing he won’t have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life is a weight off his back.

The cliff they’ve been directed to is even worse than the one Bela pushed him off of. There’s no water at the bottom, just harsh, unforgiving hard ground and rocks, and it’s more like a sheer drop than a slight slope. Worst of all, the map pieces are nowhere in sight, and when Bela goes to the edge to investigate, her face lights up with glee.

“There are metal rungs driven into the rock face,” she informs him. “Like a ladder. The maps are towards the bottom. I suppose we can safely assume you’ll be taking care of this one?”

“If you push me again I will haunt your ass,” Dean warns her.

Bela, predictably, is the one who ends up climbing down the rungs. It only takes her ten minutes, which Dean considers pretty good timing, and he takes the tube she hands him to put into the backpack as they begin backtracking towards the cave.

“I’m not going in there,” Bela says as soon as they reach the mouth of the cave.

“What, you scared?”

Bela only raises an eyebrow at him, and considering the fact that he’d just forced her down a cliff side by herself, he figures he should keep his mouth shut.

But come on. Heights were a reasonable thing to be wary of. Who the hell was scared of the dark?

The inside of the cave is littered with empty tubes, which confuses him until he figures out there are more tubes hanging from the roof of the cave. Jo and Benny must have thrown all the empty ones to the ground as they’d failed to find their map piece.

At least by doing so they’d made Dean’s job easier. He’s only thrown down three tubes before finding a piece of map in the fourth, and he quickly heads back outside, blinking in the sudden brightness.

Dean’s eager to finish this challenge now that they’re so close to the end, and he avoids all of Bela’s attempts at argument of chatter or whatever it is she’s trying to accomplish until they reach the waterfall.

“How romantic,” Bela deadpans.

“Hey,” Dean frowns suddenly, the words striking a chord within him. “Who did you fall in love with here?

“What on earth gives you the idea that I fell in love with anybody?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugs, wading into the shallow water. “But you made it this far, didn’t you? And that’s the whole point of the show.”

“I disliked nearly every person I met here,” Bela says, following him carefully.

"Alright,” Dean eyes the waterfall before quickly ducking under it, shaking the wet hair out of his eyes and waiting for Bela to follow before asking. “So who didn’t you hate?”

"I suppose Balthazar was tolerable,” she says reluctantly.

Cas had told Dean Balthazar seemed smitten with Bela, and Dean remembers laughing and saying, ‘good luck.’ But if Bela finds him tolerable, maybe he has a chance. “So not a total waste of time then,” he says triumphantly, for some reason feeling pleased the show actually works. Sure, it looked like Jo and Benny were going to keep seeing one another after it ended, but those two were perfect for each other. They probably would have started dating without the show. Balthazar and Bela, not so much, and if they managed to stay together afterwards, well then, maybe there was hope for others.

Dean’s not sure where he’s going with this, or why his chest feels lighter when he thinks about it.

They don’t see any tubes that might contain a map piece at first, and they spend at least five minutes looking before Bela finds a bottle floating behind a rock. When all three pieces are connected, it tells them to go to a banana grove.

“Are we traveling the whole damn country for this stupid brick?” Bela asks in disgust.

Luckily the banana grove is reached simply by following the path they’re on a little longer, and soon they’re in an open area where the ground is literally covered in bananas, with more dripping from the trees. Benny and Jo are already there, searching, though Dean sees no sign of Cas.

Dean’s so awesome he ends up falling over a large pile of bananas and actually uncovering one of the chests they’re looking for (he meant to do that). From there it’s a simple matter of carrying it to Gabriel, who’s waiting for them at the edge of the grove.

“Well?” Gabriel asks them, kicking the chest aside. “Did you have a good time?”

“Fantastic,” Dean tells him, running a hand through his still damp hair. “You should try it sometime. Good exercise.”

"I have an exercise buddy, but thanks for the offer, Dean-o,” Gabriel wiggles his fingers at the two of them. “See you tomorrow night!”

Thank god. All that’s left to do is talk to Crowley, then he swears he’s not letting Cas out of their cabin for the whole fucking day.

***

Cas hopes Bobby isn’t embarrassed by this picture. Blackmail is not something he’s used to at all, but he does see it as a means to an end. He just hates that they’re using a photo that includes someone other than the person they’re blackmailing. Hopefully Bobby won’t mind, and he’ll make sure to thank him somehow when the show is over.

He’d given Dean the drawing for Bela, and he’d left to give it to her, leaving Cas with the stack of copies he’d made of Bobby and Crowley’s photo. As soon as he came back, they were going to go confront Crowley.

Confronting Crowley means he and Dean could be partners for the show again. For two days. And then it would all be over, unless they one. Castiel wonders if Dean would extend their agreement to the trip or if he’d insist that they just be friends.

Before Castiel had figured out he was…attached to Dean - and he’s fairly certain he’s correct in how he feels. Each time he learns something about Dean he learns something new about himself, and he’s never wanted to spend so much time with someone before; on the contrary, he did his best to stay away from others - he’d have been fine with going through with their plan, for the sake of spending more time with Dean before they parted. Now though, he’s beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t be best for everyone involved if he just remained partnered with Meg.

It would be an easier break. If he got used to being away from Dean now, it wouldn’t be as hard to do later on. And he was potentially sparing Dean the embarrassment of learning how he felt and the subsequent awkward rejection. For which Dean might hate himself even more for.

The more Castiel thinks about it, the more appealing it seems to not go visit Crowley. If he started now, he’s certain he could be over Dean by the time his plane lands back in Boston. He had to be. And this way, there’d be no agonizing over how he should act on the world trip with Dean, since they wouldn’t be winning together.

Dean shouldn’t take much persuading. As the more invested party, this has to be Castiel’s decision.

“You do a great impression of the Thinker there, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, pushing himself up from the ground so he’s level with Dean. “Did Bela enjoy her drawing?”

“Oh yeah, she was almost in tears,” Dean grins at him. “Did you know that apparently when you make a coupla shapes on a piece of paper, it’s worth five times my car?”

“I did not,” Castiel says truthfully. He hasn’t sold anything that valuable since right after he’d graduated college. The landscapes he painted were generic and uninspired, and he usually churned them out for only a couple hundred of dollars.

“Yeah, you’re a big cheese or something,” he says, and Castiel catches a flicker of something uncertain in his eyes before it’s quickly extinguished. “So, ready to see the smug look slide right off of Crowley’s face?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” Castiel starts hesitantly. “I don’t think we should blackmail Crowley after all.”

“What?” Dean asks, staring at him. “Why the fuck not?”

“Think about it Dean. There’s only one challenge left. Is there really any reason to go through with this? We’ll only be partners for another two days before we go home. Since we’re separated at the moment, it seems easiest just to remain separated.”

Dean looks away from him, his attention turned to the ground for a long time. Finally he nods slowly. “You don’t want to be my partner, or do the trip with me. Yeah, yeah…that’s fine, Cas. It’ll work.” He turns to go, and Castiel is about to call him back, because he knows what Dean’s thinking, that something is wrong with him, that Castiel doesn’t like him anymore, and he needs to know that’s not the case. He needs Dean to understand it isn’t his fault. But Dean whips around again before he can think of what to say. “You know what? No, that’s not fine Cas. What if I ended up winning the whole thing with Bela? Or,” his face twists, “or you win with Meg? There’s no point in being here and trying if I won’t get to spend my time with someone I like.”

“Wouldn’t it be just as worse if we did partner up again and ended up losing?”

“No,” he says instantly, “Because at least I’ll have spent my time with someone I actually like.”

It’s Castiel’s turn to look away, to stare into the trees and think about what Dean has said. If they do their best to win, if they do win…nothing could make the trip better than spending it with Dean. Inias may be furious, because surely very little work will get done when Dean is around…but Dean has been his inspiration these past weeks, so really, what is the trip for anymore other than to have a good time? To do it with someone he’s fallen in love with?

Dean must take his silence as more refusal, because his voice is rough when he speaks next. “C’mon man. We’re friends. I want you by my side. I need you.”

Castiel’s already crumbling resolve breaks. He has no response for Dean other than to hand him the photos. “Let’s go talk to Crowley.”

***

That had been fucking close.

Dean’s stomach had almost bottomed out when Cas had suggested just getting on with their lives. For reasons he’s not going to examine, the idea of letting Cas go right this very second was not something he was ready to contemplate.

He just wasn’t ready to stop hanging out with Cas yet.

Their last walk to the ugly ass compound building goes by quickly, with Dean trying not to think about what he did to make Cas not want to hang out anymore, and Cas thinking about god knows what. Probably regretting agreeing to let Dean show Crowley the pictures.

It’s almost eerie how empty this building always is, and Dean wonders if it’s just because the crew is constantly down by the cabins filming them or if Crowley purposely kicks everyone out so he can be all alone in his creepy, dark building.

Hell indeed.

Cas’ knock is answered with a drawled, “Enter,” and Dean throws the door open, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Crowley’s desk without invitation.

“The good manners you exhibit never cease to amaze me,” Crowley says, not looking away from his computer. “Won’t you sit down Castiel? Dean seems to have taken care of himself.”

Castiel sits down in the chair next to Dean. “It’s nice to see you too, Crowley.”

“As always,” he says, turning away from the computer and folding his hands together to look at them. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“We have a proposition for you,” Castiel says, folding his hands in a mockery of Crowley as he stares him down. “A business deal, if you will.”

“Oh?” Crowley raises an eyebrow in interest. “A joint project? I hear you’re a carpenter, Dean. Perhaps you two are offering me a beautiful work of art? In return for what, allowing you to be partners together again?” Crowley leans forward. “Tell me boys, can anything you give me amount to five million dollars? Because that’s the amount of money I stand to make if my projected numbers come through.”

"Five million dollars?” Dean says in disbelief. “Jesus, and that’s just from me and Cas making eyes at each other? You should be giving us half!”

“Maybe I should be, but that’s the beauty of being me – I don’t have to,” Crowley smirks. “Good chat boys. Keep giving one another those longing looks, and maybe we’ll talk about a little ten dollar bonus when the show ends.”

“We have something we believe is worth it to you,” Cas tells him. “Something we know you won’t want leaving this office.”

“Fine then, let’s see it” Crowley says, his voice bored. He clearly doesn’t believe they have anything incriminating, and that’s what makes Dean happiest of all when he slides the photo across the desk.

Crowley studies it for a long moment, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “And where did you find this?” he asks conversationally.

“I think all that matters is that we found it,” Dean gloats, not able to help it. He’ll take pride in a job well done any chance he can get.

“And I could easily destroy it. What then?”

“Then you’ll send us on our way, and the various copies we made will find themselves in the hands of some of your friends,” Cas shrugs, and Dean’s actually a little proud of how well he’s keeping his cool. Cas is pretty good at this.

“I see I’m backed into a corner,” Crowley says. “I suppose in exchange for this little picture you want me to lift the ban on you two? Allow you to partner back up tonight for the finale?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “That’s what we want.”

“And,” Castiel adds quickly, “all conversation caught on camera about Dean’s past occupation or his time in jail must be omitted from any episodes and destroyed. You are not to use it for any commercial gain.”

“I’m impressed, Castiel,” Crowley nods. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. Fine. You two can do whatever the fuck you want on the show, and anything regarding Mr. Winchester’s proud past profession will be destroyed. Did I miss anything?”

“That’s it,” Castiel agrees, leaning back in his chair.

Dean can’t believe Cas even thought of all those moments he’d mentioned going to jail or stealing. None of it had seemed public – they’d been private moments between him and Cas, moments where he hadn’t even noticed the camera trained on him. The thought that stuff like that could affect his reputation or business had never even crossed his mind, because Dean is has been too preoccupied with the more idiotic problems playing the game show presents.

Cas was obviously aware of the cameras constantly trained on them. Dean supposes his life experiences have just made it easier for him to ignore distractions.

"If that’s all you want, then I’d appreciate it if you get out of my office,” Crowley says pleasantly.

Dean stands up and Cas follows quickly. “Any reason you don’t seem to really give a shit?”

Crowley smiles up at them. “I’ve earned ten million off of you two already. Five million is chump change. You’ve done what I needed you to do.”

“Than why the fuck did we have to blackmail you?” Dean asks, his voice level rising to a yell. He can practically feel Cas tensing beside him, but whether it’s in response to Dean or Crowley, he doesn’t know.

“You didn’t,” Crowley shrugs. “But I applaud your ingenuity. If you ever try to do it again, I’ll destroy you.” He smiles. “Good luck in the competition, boys.”

***

It’s a relief to be gathered in this pavilion before a ceremony for the last time, but it also feels like an ending. After this, Castiel knows, he will have two days with Dean. Unless they win and those two days turn into several months.

So all they have to do is win, right?         

Dean said he wanted to. He told Castiel he needed him, something Castiel never expected to hear from anybody in his lifetime. But Dean had said it, and meant it, because Dean didn’t say things like that without meaning them.

He wants Castiel by his side. He needs Castiel.

“So, who’s excited?” Gabriel asks, striding to the front of the room. “No more feeling like you’re the last kid picked for kickball anymore!     Now, I know typically this is the point where I send two of you home, but we’re doing things a little differently tonight. Instead of kicking the two most unwanted losers off the island, we’re going to play a little game.”

“Sounds about as fun as a heart transplant,” Meg mutters under her breath.

Castiel glances worriedly at Dean. Does that mean they won’t have a chance to switch partners tonight? Maybe he should have gotten used to the idea of not seeing Dean anymore after all.

Dean just shoots him a cocky wink though, seeming unalarmed. “Hey Gabriel,” he speaks up. “I got a proposition for ya.”

“Sold.”

Dean stares at him. “You don’t even know what I want. Or what you’re getting.”

Gabriel sighs. “You drive a hard bargain their Deano, but I accept. You and Cas-man partner back up, and in return I get a trip to the Candyland location of my choice. It was a hard deal, but I just can’t refuse. Now go sit next to Cas and shut up about it.”

Dean takes it all in stride, and Castiel has the urge to laugh as he calmly makes his way over to Cas’ bench and patiently waits for Meg to get up, giving her a questioning look like he’s not sure what she’s still doing there.

“Wait just a fucking minute,” Meg snaps, and if anything (and Castiel isn’t really sure how this is possible) she sits more solidly on the chair. “You can’t do that!”

“I dunno if anyone here knows what host means,” Gabriel says in response, “Because I sure fucking don’t, but I’ve decided it means ‘does whatever the fuck he wants.’ I live by that philosophy every day, and now I’m sharing it with you. You should be thanking me.”

“Yeah? What would your boss say about that?” Meg snaps, her eyes flashing.

Gabriel shrugs. “Probably something like,” here he adopts a horrible British accent, “you’re out of order Gabriel! Now get me some damn tea, turn on the telly, and next time when I tell you to humiliate game show contestants, do it in a more entertaining manner!” He looks mock sadly at Cas. “I really could have done it better, too. Had a whole pie to the face gag and everything.”

“This is fucking ridiculous. You can’t make me have a partner I don’t want.”

“That’s fucking rich,” Dean laughs.

Castiel turns to Meg, raising an eyebrow. “I agree it can be unpleasant, but there are rules to follow. I believe you’re hurting Bela’s feelings.”

“I’m absolutely heartbroken,” Bela agrees flatly.

Meg stands up slowly and calmly, sweeping her gaze over all of them before moving to sit by Bela without another word. Dean sits down next to Castiel, sliding his thigh along Cas’ own in his usual instant need to touch.

Castiel didn’t want to humiliate Meg. He takes no joy in purposely upsetting her. He can’t, however, help but think that she kind of deserved this. He has no idea what she expected from him if they were to win the trip around the world together.

“Now that plot twist hour is over,” Gabriel says, instantly turning on the bright charm, “Do we all know what the Newlywed Game is?”

It sounds horrendous.

“Is that some new form of torture?” Dean asks.

“You’re funny, kid. Too bad you’re not getting paid,” Gabriel snaps his fingers and suddenly Castiel is being handed a whiteboard and a marker. “I’m going to ask you guys a serious of questions having to do with your relationship, and each of you are gonna write down the answer. If you have the same answer, you get a point. First to five wins, and gets a thirty second head start in the challenge tomorrow. Last place goes home tonight. We clear?”

"And how exactly am I supposed to play this game with someone I barely know?” Meg asks icily.

"Guessing games can be fun too,” Gabriel grins. “Alright! First question is for Dean, Bela, and Jo. What is your partner’s favorite physical feature on you?”

Castiel’s pretty sure Dean is going to be too embarrassed to write down the actual answer, even though he’s fully aware Castiel has a thing about his belly. So he writes down ‘eyes’. He loves Dean’s eyes, and he’s told Dean a few times he wants to try to match their shade one day, so it’s a safe bet.

“Alright, hold up your boards!”

Castiel glances at Dean and groans internally. He’s slightly pink, but he’s holding up his whiteboard with a steady hand, upon which ‘belly’ is written clearly. “Since when do you like my eyes better?” he demands.

Castiel smiles slightly at him and shakes his head. “It’s the answer I thought you would write.” He won’t make the mistake of underestimating Dean again.

Only Jo and Benny end up getting a point, and they move on to the next question.

“For Cas, Meg and Benny – what does your partner value above everything else?”

Castiel writes down ‘family’ without even thinking, and they win the point easily, although they are still trailing one point behind Benny and Jo.

“So two, one, zero,” Gabriel announces gleefully. “Still anyone’s game. Heads up first group. What is your partner most proud of about themselves?”

Castiel has no idea how Dean is going to answer this, because he can’t answer it himself. There is nothing he’s done that he’s particularly proud of. Yes, he’s a good artist, but claiming to be proud of the work he’s done seems to him like a dog claiming to be proud it can bark. It is just something he _does_.

Yet if anything, painting is the only thing he can think to be proud of, but if he wanted to go deeper, he might consider what he paints. He is rather proud of learning the skill of perception. Studying people is not easy, and although it’s still not something he’s really necessarily proud of, it is something he thinks he’s good at, so he writes it down.

When they’re told to lift their boards, his eyes fly immediately to what Dean has written.

" _The good he sees in people._ ”

“I’ll take it,” Gabriel says after he sees their board. “Perception is all about seeing inside something.”

Benny and Jo missed the question, although Bela somehow managed to guess Meg was proud of her wit. The score is two, two, one.

“How did you guess that?” he asks Dean as he carefully erases the word off of his board.

Dean shrugs. “It’s one of the things I like best about you. Figured you’d like it too.”

Second question for the second group,” Gabriel grins wickedly, “who wears the pants in the relationship?”

Castiel makes a face. Everyone’s going to lose this one. He writes down his own name just to be contrary.

To his very great surprise, Dean’s written down his name too. “Knew you were gonna be an asshole,” he says cheerfully. They’re now leading the group with three points.

“Where was your first kiss? Not counting the one required by the show.”

At first Castiel can’t remember. Was the first time they’d really kissed the first time they’d had sex? That was…almost disappointing. Then he suddenly remembers Dean’s frantic thanks, clinking harnesses and complete surprise. Dean had kissed him after the rope bridge challenge.

Dean remembers too, although he also looks troubled, and Castiel wonders if he’s thinking the same thing he is. Their first kiss had barely just happened, and the show was two days from being over. How many times had they kissed since then?

But then he remembers that Dean can’t care about that, because he thinks of Cas as a friend, and leaving him will bother him no more than Charlie’s absence does. Castiel will be a fond memory, not an agonizing separation.

He pushes the thoughts from his head. They now have four points.

“One more and you two will win the thirty second head start,” Gabriel informs him, tapping his lip with his middle finger. “Hmm, which question…how about the person most likely to make the first move.”

Castiel sighs heavily and scrawls out Dean’s name. Dean has written down, ‘me’ and grins lewdly at Castiel when he holds up his board. They’ve gotten five points and are given a thirty second head start in the next challenge, which probably guarantees their winning the whole show.

Castiel should be ecstatic. A trip around the world with his…with Dean.

He feels curiously empty.


	11. Chapter 10

Benny and Jo have also made it into the final round, which Castiel is grateful for. They’re really the only couple left here, and he can’t help but think that maybe they deserve the trip more than he and Dean do, just because Benny and Jo so clearly like one another and want to make their relationship work. He and Dean are nothing like that.

He’s happy to see Meg go, simply because he won’t have to worry about her anymore. Considering how easy it’s been for people to stick around after they get kicked off the show however, he isn’t at all surprised to run into her when he tries to leave the cabin that evening.

Dean’s already asleep inside, and Castiel had lain awake for a couple of hours before he’d realized he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her, rolling his pencil through his fingers, agitated. He wants to draw, he needs to do something. He doesn’t want to talk to Meg.

“I just wanted to come apologize, relax,” she says, rolling her eyes, and Castiel looks at her in surprise. He didn’t expect this.

“Oh. Thank you, then. I’m sorry it happened the way that it did.”

“I’m not apologizing for what I did,” Meg raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’m apologizing because you’re so clearly in love with Dean Winchester, and he doesn’t even care. Tough deal, Clarence.”

His hand stills and he purses his lips at her. Is it really that obvious? Does everybody know? Maybe Dean knows after all too, and is ignoring it. Castiel can’t decide if this is better or worse than him not knowing at all. “I don’t need your apologies. Especially when they’re not meant.”

“Oh but I do mean it,” she laughs. “Listen, there are two types of people in this world that don’t do the love thing. There are people like me, who just don’t get it, and then there are people like Dean, who collects hearts everywhere he goes and never returns them. Only one of us is going to break you, and guess what? It sure as hell ain’t me.”

“Dean isn’t ‘collecting hearts’,” Castiel says firmly, because he believes that to his very core. “If I asked him, he would tell me whether or not he returns my feelings. He wouldn’t lie.”

“Then why don’t you?” she taunts. Castiel remains silent, and she laughs again, louder. “It’s because you’ll know what he’ll say, and you’re scared, aren’t you Clarence? You don’t want to hear it.” Meg shakes her head sadly at him. “I’d have told you how I felt, and we could have had a relationship for a while. Been happy. You’d have tried to fix me, and I would have done everything I could to avoid it. You can’t have that with Dean. There’s no fixing him.”

“I don’t want to fix Dean,” Castiel says truthfully. “He doesn’t need to be fixed.”

Dean needs to understand that he’s wanted and appreciated, not made to feel like there’s something wrong with him. And considering how he was brought up, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. Dean was surprisingly stable for a former criminal shouldered with too much responsibility and showered with neglect. That he was so kind hearted, talented and loyal spoke to who he was in his very soul. Castiel doesn’t want to change any of that. He certainly doesn’t need fixing.

"You keep thinking that,” Meg says smoothly. “And you remember me when he breaks your fucking heart to pieces.”

She leaves as quickly as she had showed up, with Cas still standing on the porch of their cabin, his pencil still in his hand, his sketchbook in the other. He stands there for a moment, considering the night, before turning to go back inside.

Whatever happened when the show ended, he would accept it. So long as Dean was fine with it, Castiel would be as well. He would do everything in his power to show that he cared for Dean, but he refused to make him uncomfortable, or feel bad in any way.

If Dean wanted his friend, then Castiel was going to continue being a good one.

***

It was a strange feeling. For the longest time, Dean had stood in front of Gabriel and wished it was the last time. He’d never wanted to be here in the first place, and the second their plane had landed, Dean had wanted nothing more than to get back on and go home, another few hours of nausea and nervous sweating be damned.

He’d never in his wildest dreams thought he’d make it this far. First he hadn’t cared – he’d wanted to go home, had even hoped for it. Then when he’d made it through a few challenges, it was like why the hell not stick around? Maybe he could win the damn trip for Sam or something. Hell knows he hated flying. Then he’d met Cas.

Now here he was, in the last episode of this fucking show he’d wanted no part of, seriously interested in this guy when he’d come here without any intention of paying attention to anybody. Standing in front of Gabriel for the last time ever, he should be ecstatic – his suffering is almost over.

He’s not as happy as he thought he’d be. It doesn’t feel like the end to any suffering.

Cas is by his side, separating him from Jo and Benny. He’s standing so close he’s practically leaning on Dean, and he wonders how Cas feels about their time here being almost over. If he wants to continue their time together as much as Dean wants to.

Shit. He really wants to keep seeing Cas, doesn’t he? Except Cas lives in Boston, and has the potential to be a big deal, whereas Dean lives in friggin’ Kansas. He can’t ask Cas to waste the time and money coming to see him, not when all he wants to do is just hang out some more, maybe have sex once in a while. Normal people don’t fly across time zones for shit like that.

Of course, they could totally win here. Get a trip around the world, which would buy him more time with Cas. But Dean absolutely hates flying, something he hadn’t worried about when he was so sure he wasn’t going to win. Besides that, he can’t help but feel that Benny and Jo deserve a romantic trip much more than he and Cas do. After talking to Benny, he’s pretty sure the poor bastard is in love with Jo, and Jo no doubt feels the same way. Dean would be nothing but a selfish prick if he took that trip from them, just so he could freak himself out at five thousand miles high and have an excuse to bum around with Cas for a few extra weeks.

So yeah. If they lose, he never sees Cas again. If they win he gets to see Cas for a few weeks, eating candlelit dinners with the guy and feeling guilty he took the opportunity from two people who were actually in love. Either way, his life sucked.

Hell, maybe he and Cas should throw this. Then Benny and Jo could win and he could go home and get on with his life.

Gabriel’s looking over them like they’re kids and he’s fucking Mary Poppins checking that their clothes are straight. He better start talking soon. If Dean thinks about this anymore he knows his brain is going to explode.

"So last day, huh?” he says finally. “Kind of sad, isn’t it? But we can all be glad for one thing – you four made it this far, so you must like something about each other, right? And that’s all we can ask for here on Love in the Wild. We wanna release you baby birds out into the real world though, so we gotta make sure you can survive without killing each other. ‘But Gabriel,’ you say, ‘we’ve been living together and we’ve been fine.’ That’s true kiddos, but we haven’t exactly made it hard on you, have we? So, we’re gonna make it hard on you.”

Dean glances down at Cas, how’s managed to actually lean his shoulder onto Dean’s by this point. He doesn’t shrug him off, even though it’s kind of unlike Cas to be all touchy feely. He’s pretty sure he can keep him alive though, he’s the one making sure he eats half the time.

“To do that,” Gabriel continues, his gaze fixed on Cas, brow furrowed, “You two beautiful couples are going to have a two day adventure. I can’t tell you much more than that, since you’re going to get instructions as you go along. Don’t forget what this is all for – a first class trip around the world to cities like Paris, Buenos Aires, Venice, Tokyo, and all those other romantic spots your little hearts desire. This challenge is for the big bucks, people, so let’s go all out and up on a good show, alright? Now, who’s the best at giving directions?”

Cas lifts his head to look at Dean, his brow furrowed. “That’s a loaded question.”

“Yeah it is,” Dean cracks a smile. “Think it depends on the type of directions.”

“You’re better at understanding me, I think,” Cas says thoughtfully, like he’s actually thinking hard about it. Cas is obviously taking this seriously, while Dean still hasn’t even decided if he wants to try yet or not. He supposes he should for now, at least until he has a chance to talk to Cas about it.

“So you wanna give the directions?”

“Yes,” he says decisively. “And this time I promise not to lie.”

Dean remembers the last time they had to give each other directions, when Cas told him he couldn’t find the inner tubes so Meg could beat them and throw their lives into such a fucking shit storm. He almost wishes Cas would lie and do something like that again – it would make everything so much easier for him, if Cas made it obvious how he felt.

Gabriel hands Castiel and Jo walkie talkies, their official uniform as direction givers. Then he throws backpacks at Dean and Benny. “Get in the truck,” he grins, gesturing to a vehicle behind them Dean is noticing for the first time. “I’m kidnapping you two. Cas and Jo, you two get to sit here while I spend time with your men and wait for further instructions.”

Dean shoulders the backpack and turns to wave goodbye to Cas, who to his surprise (or maybe none surprise, since he should be used to it by now) is standing right in front of him. He shifts awkwardly but manages not to take a step back. “Uh. See you in a bit?”

“Yes,” Cas says quietly, and then to add to the weirdness, he leans forward and kisses Dean, not full on the lips, but kind of on the corner of his mouth, like he changes his mind at the last second. Dean’s sure he must be staring at him in complete surprise, but Cas holds his gaze, and Dean doesn’t break it until Gabriel clears his throat. Loudly.

“I promise it shouldn’t take you two more than half an hour to get back together,” he says, voice irritatingly obnoxious after something, to use Cas’ word from earlier, kind of profound. Not that Dean really believes in stuff like that, he just can’t think of another word for why he and Cas would be staring at each other until someone actually had to stop them.

He takes a giant step back in order to get away, and somehow it’s easier to turn and climb into the bed of the truck when Cas isn’t so close to him. Benny’s already up there, with Jo waiting patiently by Cas now, and Dean tries not to be embarrassed about their display of whatever the fuck that was when Benny and Jo were so easily separated.

“Everything alright?” Benny asks as the truck starts. His concern is what clinches it for Dean, and he shakes himself as well as he can out of the weird ass mood he’s been thrown head first into, tossing him a confident smile. “Just psyching myself up to kick your ass, Benny.”

“Bring it, brother,” Benny returns, patting Dean on the shoulder hard enough to pitch him forward a little. “We both deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Dean says shortly.

“You two are so sweet, it’s sickening,” Gabriel complains. “I hope you’re planning on actually fighting for your love.”

"No one else will,” Benny says cheerfully. The scenery is passing by quickly, and Dean is just beginning to think they can’t be going that far when the truck stops and Gabriel hops out. “Alright, come on out,” he says. They’re on a road alongside a rickety fence which looks like it’s used to pen in animals, although Dean doesn’t see any nearby. They’re far enough beyond the trees that he can imagine they’re not in the jungle anymore, although turning around would immediately ruin that illusion.

“Your backpacks have walkie talkies in them that connect you directly back to your significant other,” Gabriel announces as two large crates are unloaded from the truck that had followed them with the cameramen. “They’re going to do the best they can to direct you to three objects you need to find and bring back here, at which point you will open your crates and continue on your way towards the ultimate romantic adventure.”

Dean knows to look for the roll of the eyes now, and raises an eyebrow when Gabriel catches him watching. “Make sure your walkie talkies work. I’m not dealing with any whining once the challenge actually starts.”

Dean reluctantly raises the talkie to his lips, feeling stupid. “Cas?”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, his voice coming through calm and steady even through the crackling static of the walkie talkie. “Are you ready for directions?”

Dean’s ready for a lot of directions, but he doesn’t think any of the ones he wants are the ones Cas is going to be giving to him. He wants to scream, ‘What are we doing? Don’t you give a fuck if you never see me again after tomorrow?’ but he doubts this is the time or the place.

Besides, no matter how much he actually wants to say these things, he never will. Questions that heavy never lead to anything good. The last one had landed Sam halfway across the country for four years.

“Hang on a moment,” he says instead, looking expectantly at Gabriel. Gabriel, in turn, looks towards the cameramen, and getting a positive cue from somebody, nods. “Dean gets that thirty second head start, so go ahead. You wait until I tell you to go, Benny-boy.”

Dean clips the walkie talkie to the strap of his backpack and walks away from Gabriel and Benny in order to better listen to Cas patiently explain where he wants him to go. “You have to go east. There should be a trench a few yards down from you, and that’s where the first box is.”

East is down the path, so Dean heads in that direction. Sure enough, there’s a ditch right off the side of the path, with a small wooden crate clearly set at the bottom. He jumps down and pops it open, pulling out two sets of…pedals?

“What did you get?” he hears Cas ask.

“Pedals,” Dean answers, as he tries to shove them into the backpack at the same time. “Guess we’re gonna be riding the Tour de France.”

“I hate riding bikes.”

“Sure, you look stupid, but at least you’ll be looking stupid with me,” Dean says. “That was ridiculously easy to find. What else you got for me?”

“Do you see a rice field?”

"Dunno, what the fuck does a rice field look like?” Dean asks. The only thing for miles is the fence that’s falling apart. He climbs out of the trench to cross the path and runs his hands over a post, absentmindedly thinking about what he could make with all of this wood other than a shitty fence that probably doesn’t do its damn job.

“I’m not entirely certain, but I believe it will look like a field with rice growing in it.”

“You’re kidding me,” Dean deadpans, peering over the edge of the fence. “Does rice look like tall grass?”

"Yes,” Cas says, then adds helpfully, “Rice fields are flooded.”

Now that he’s paying attention, he can see that the ground on the other side of the fence is marshy and soaked, so he vaults easily over the low fence, dragging his feet through the mud until he’s farther in. “I found it. Where am I going?”

“Towards the center of the field there should be another crate,” Cas’ voice comes crackling back over the walkie, and Dean easily finds and opens the new crate, this one slightly bigger and containing two bike seats. “This isn’t very hard from my end, either. The map is more like a giant picture.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, to tell you the truth Cas, I don’t think they expected a genius like you on the show.”

“Then I doubt they expected anyone with your level of intelligence either,” Cas says promptly, “Both of us are getting bored. The third crate is on the edge of the forest, under a gnarled tree. You have to come back towards me.”

“You think even if we don’t win we get a consolation prize for beating a time record?” Dean jokes. The last crate is the biggest yet, and contains two bicycle wheels. “Wonder what’s in the mother crate?” he mutters out loud.

Cas says, “What?” and Dean realizes he’d pushed down on the talk button without noticing.

"I’m pretty sure I’m about to put together a tandem bike,” Dean sighs, now standing back in front of the original large crate Gabriel had left behind. “Do I need to come for you, or are you on your way here?”

“I’m almost to you, but I’d rather just tell you to come for me.”

Dean smirks, tossing all his supplies onto the ground in order to pry open the large crate. Sure enough, there’s a frame of a tandem bike lying in there, and he drags it out so he can begin attaching all the extra pieces to it.

“You sure it’s gonna be me coming?” Dean asks after he’s finished, turning to speak into the walkie talkie on his shoulder. He sees Cas reach the edge of the trees and smiles as he watches Cas listening, his head cocking to the side and his gaze rising to meet Dean’s. He nods slowly and deliberately, and fuck if that isn’t one of the hottest things Dean’s seen.

Fucking head nods are attractive. The more Cas affects him, the better he thinks it would be if they don’t win. It’s beginning to get weird, how Dean’s feeling, and maybe getting away from Cas for a while is the only way he’s going to be able to stop this stupid prickly feeling and begin acting like a normal fucking human being again.

***

Castiel has never ridden a tandem bike before. He’s not sure he’s ever even seen one, a surprise when he lives in such a large city.

The monstrosity Dean is showing him has two seats, two sets of pedals, and two handlebars, but it still only has two wheels. He fails to see how both he and Dean can keep it going fast enough so that it doesn’t fall over. “Where are we riding it to?” he asks doubtfully.

“There were instructions in the box,” Dean gestures towards the large open crate lying on its side. Its twin, the crate Castiel assumes is for Benny and Jo, is still unopened, which means they really should get going if they want to keep their lead. “It wants us to follow the bike path to a drop off where we’re gonna get a piece of limestone or something.”

“A piece of limestone?” Castiel repeats, staring at him.

“Yeah?” he rubs the back of his neck and shrugs at the same time. “Look dude, who the fuck knows who came up with this one. Let’s just go and we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“Fine,” Castiel agrees, because there’s something off about Dean. The easiness that usually surrounds him like a shield is missing, and Castiel’s not sure if this is a bad thing or if this means Dean’s carefully built defenses are slowly coming down for him. Whatever it is, it’s possible Dean doesn’t realize what he’s doing, and Castiel isn’t going to point it out before he knows if it’s just a bad mood or not.

Dean gets on the back seat, a good idea considering Castiel has been on a bike a total of three times in his life.

“You gonna be able to stay on?” Dean asks in amusement as Castiel wobbles a little, balancing himself on the seat.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Castiel says with as much dignity as he can muster while straddling such a ridiculous looking thing.

Benny and Jo have finally made it over to their crate and are beginning to put together their bike, and their thirty second head start is going to be shot if they don’t start riding soon. He feels the frame of the bike shake and lifts his feet to the pedals automatically – Dean had been kicking off to get them moving.

The ride is surprisingly easy. Castiel has the feeling he could stop pedaling and Dean would still have everything under control, a feeling of trust he’s not accustomed to having. It suddenly occurs to him losing Dean doesn’t mean just losing his company, but losing someone he trusts, and whom he believes cares for him, and who makes him feel like he means something more than just another person churning out run-of-the-mill art to make a living.

To Dean, he is someone who sees people, who makes them angels. He doesn’t want to lose that person, and he doesn’t want Dean to lose sight of the man Castiel sees in him.

“Hey, Cas?”

“What?” Castiel asks absently, twisting his head a little. He can’t catch sight of Dean at all, and Dean nudges him a little in the back to get Castiel to face forward again.

“I’ve been thinking…” Dean hesitates a moment. “Maybe we should stop trying so hard.”

Castiel’s initial panicked thought is that Dean has been attempting to engage in a romantic relationship the whole time, thinking that Castiel was as well, and was just now giving up on it. Then he realizes surely not even Dean would neglect to tell him they should try to be more than friends, and he calms down a bit.

Even though he’s prided himself over these last few weeks on knowing what it is Dean is trying to say, he doubts he will ever trust himself to know exactly what it is Dean is trying to say in regards to what he thinks of Cas.

“Trying so hard at what?” he finally questions after he realizes he still has no idea what Dean is talking about.

“Well, I mean, we got the thirty second head start, which is awesome and everything, but that was just part dumb luck and the other part because we talk way too much, right?”

Castiel tries and fails to remember a time they’d talked more than was usual. Even when they were drunk he only remembers periods of drinking games punctuated by short bursts of meaningful statements. Except Castiel doesn’t spend too much time talking to anybody, so he guesses he doesn’t really have a basis for comparison.

“So, I was thinking, maybe Benny and Jo might wanna go on this trip too, and uh, you know, maybe…maybe we should slow down a bit and give them a chance.”

The sinking feeling in his chest Castiel is currently experiencing is not something he likes at all. It’s clear now that Dean doesn’t love him, something Castiel had expected and anticipated anyway, but he’s surprisingly hurt by the realization that not only does Dean not love him, he doesn’t even like him enough to want to spend more time with him.

Castiel should be relieved, shouldn’t he? After all, just recently the thought of traveling around the world with Dean and pretending everything was normal had been painful. Now he’s being presented with a surefire way not to have to do that, and yet he still isn’t happy. He wants to see Dean. He doesn’t want to see Dean knowing he isn’t aware of how Castiel feels. He can’t tell Dean his feelings for fear of never seeing him again.

Whatever way Castiel looks at it, this love thing was doing nothing but make him miserable. Screw him for putting himself through this.

Regardless of what Dean wants, Castiel had promised himself he was going to go along with it, so he nods slowly. “Benny and Jo are a good couple, and I’m sure they’d appreciate the trip.”

“Yeah,” Dean says after a moment. The pedals Castiel has been systematically pedaling the entire time lock up as the bike comes to a halt, and he twists completely to look at Dean. “What?” Dean asks innocently, straightening up. There’s something in his hand, which is covered in black streaks. “The gear came off.”

“I suppose that means we have to walk the rest of the way?”

“Sure does,” he climbs off the bike and waits for Cas to do the same, slapping his hands away when he tries to put them on the handlebars to help push. “I got it, Cas. S’my fault anyway.”

Castiel lets him push the tandem bike, because it seems stupid to argue. Even walking Jo and Benny don’t pass them, and Castiel wonders if they had trouble putting their bike together. Dean keeps glancing behind him, like he’s now genuinely concerned that he and Castiel are going to win.

He pretends it doesn’t hurt.

The bike drop off is no more than a sign stuck into the ground, but Dean takes it quite literally by letting the bike fall to the dirt instead of setting it down. “You can grab the limestone man, because I guarantee you’re the only one here that knows what it looks like.”

Unfortunately limestone looks like any other stone, but luckily the show has again made it easy for them. Two large chunks of rock with holes drilled into them are situated next to the bike drop sign along with two scrolls, and Dean grabs the scroll, handing the rock off to Cas.

“Walk a little ways into the jungle, you’ll see several posts, blah blah blah…” Dean skims over the instructions quickly before crumpling the paper up. “C’mon. A little further in there are more sticks with stones on top of them, or something. We gotta line up the limestone with another rock and look through the holes to find our camping supplies.”

“That may be the most convoluted thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Heh,” Dean grins. “Who do you think makes this shit up? It can’t be Jody, I’d give her way more credit than this.”

“Maybe the show has a group of preliminary writers who create challenges based off of clichéd tropes and overplayed ideas.”

“Yeah? I’d love to meet them and tell them what I think.”

Just through the trees is a scene very close to the one Dean had halfheartedly described – ten posts arranged in a circle, each with a stone with a hole in it placed upon the top. There is one post in the middle for the piece of limestone to be set on, and before Castiel sets it down he notices a half moon symbol carved into the bottom. “Dean, I think you need to find a stone with this symbol on it.”

Dean leans over to look, and suddenly Castiel understands how overwhelming it can be to have someone in your personal space when you don’t necessarily want them to be there. Dean’s face is so close he could kiss him. Castiel wants to. What he doesn’t want is to repeat his awkward half aborted kiss from earlier, which had clearly bothered Dean. This time, he keeps to himself.

The post with a matching symbol carved into it is directly in front of them, and since Castiel has no interest in staring through a hole in a rock he lets Dean do it. The two holes line up to point them directly towards a clump of bushes and rock several yards out, and they find two wicker baskets full of supplies sitting right behind it. Jo and Benny still haven’t shown up, although if Castiel strains his ears he thinks he can hear them at the bike drop off.

“Dude,” Dean says in delight, holding up a large bag. “There’s coffee in here!” He throws it back into the basket and hauls it up so that he’s awkwardly carrying it. Cas stares at him. “What? You like coffee!”

“Do you think we should take everything?” he asks pointedly. “How far is it to where we’re going?”

Dean sighs dramatically. “It’s called the Lost World, Cas. Gotta call our camping grounds by its proper name. It’s about two miles or so, but all we have to do is head due west through there,” he nods into the forest.

“We probably don’t need everything in these baskets,” Cas reasons. “If we sort out everything useless it will make the trip easier.”

Dean shoots him a wounded look but otherwise drops his basket and begins pawing through it, throwing more luxurious items like hot chocolate away. Castiel begins to do the same with the other basket, throwing a bottle of wine into the unneeded pile, but Dean immediately snatches it back up again. “It could be weak as shit and eighty percent water, Cas, we’re still taking the booze.”

They end up filling one basket with things they’re convinced they need, and by this point Castiel can see Benny and Jo situating their piece of limestone in the middle of the circle of posts. Dean follows his gaze before hefting the basket back up to his shoulder. “Come on, Cas. We’re losing daylight.”

He supposes he should be grateful Dean is even putting on the guise of trying to win. At the very least, he wants everyone who’s going to watch this to think so.

Dean can be a very good actor when he wants to be, especially when it comes to how he feels. So much so that Castiel isn’t very sure what he’s thinking anymore.

“Dean,” he says suddenly. “I talked to Sam.”

“It’s a miracle you’re still awake,” Dean glances at him and shoots him an easy smile, shifting the basket on his shoulder. “You guys have another Discovery Channel session together?”

“No,” Castiel looks at him, determined not to seem guilty or hesitant. Although he regrets that he did not trust Dean’s own view of himself enough to believe his story about how he was sent to jail, he does not regret asking to hear it from Sam as well. “We talked about you.”

The brief uncomfortable silence Castiel had been both dreading and expecting appears, before Dean asks, much too casually, “Yeah? What about?”

“He told me how you were caught stealing at the grocery store.”

Dean laughs bitterly. “I told you about that too. But I bet Sam made it sound cooler, didn’t he? What, did he make me out to be a hero or something? Did I volunteer at a Soup Kitchen beforehand? Or maybe he made dad out to be a villain. Lemme guess, he let them jail me.”

“He certainly made your father sound like a deplorable person,” Cas says evenly, ignoring his feelings about John Winchester for now.

“I was stealing, Cas. I got caught because I deserved it.”

“Dean, you were stealing food to feed yourself and your brother while your father was away stealing possessions much more valuable. Well what you did was illegal, I hardly think the degree of punishment was deserved.” He forms air quotes with his fingers when he says the word deserved, attempting to convey how serious he is.

Dean gently pushes his hand down, making a face at him. “It had to happen eventually, Cas. I couldn’t go without getting caught forever. ‘Sides, what was I supposed to do? Sammy needed taking care of. Couldn’t tell people what was happening or he’d get taken away.”

“But he was anyway, and that’s part of the reason you feel so guilty,” Castiel says in frustration. “Besides which, the only reason you ever stole in the first place was because your father taught you it was the only way you could help your family, and that’s all you were doing when you took the food.”

Dean sighs heavily, like these are all thing he’s heard and discarded before. Castiel feels a sudden kinship with Sam. “Does it really matter, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel says firmly. “Because obviously this is eating you up when it shouldn’t be. Sam doesn’t blame you for what happened Dean. I certainly don’t think any less of you. Maybe it’s time you gave yourself a break as well.”

Dean doesn’t answer, and the trees get denser the further they walk. Soon Castiel can’t see the path anymore due to how close together the trees are growing, and his eyesight isn’t helped by the quickly setting sun.

“Alright,” Dean’s voice is sudden, and Castiel looks sharply at him. “So maybe jail was a bit extreme for a kid stealing a box of Lucky Charms.”

It wasn’t a total admission of innocence, but it was definitely a start.

It’s dusk when the spot the first stone idol, and seconds later they’re stepping into a large clearing surrounded by looming idols carved from stone. Apparently this is the best Love in the Wild can come up with for their Lost World. Dean drops the basket with relief, looking around.

“Guess we should set up camp.”

***

Dean can’t believe Cas gave in that easily.

Sure, it’s what he wanted. What he’d decide he’d wanted, anyway. In order to get away and sort out his crap. Yeah. And anyway, Benny and Jo did deserve to win, so it wasn’t a big deal, right? He’d wanted Cas to agree with him, had even had a whole argument planned out.

Kind of a waste, in retrospect.

Cas wanted Jo and Benny to win already. Dean knew what his problem was, or at least, he knew he had a problem. He wondered if Cas was having issues too. Was he having a hard time separating his feelings towards Dean from this whole ‘romantic angle’ the show was trying to push? Because that’s really what it was, wasn’t it. Dean couldn’t possibly…you know, with Cas. It’s only been less than a month, for fuck’s sake. It’d taken him ages to work up the courage to ask Cassie to marry him, and that was only right after he’d realized he loved her. There was no fucking way.

That’s it. There was no fucking way. And not for Cas either. So it must be that Cas doesn’t like him all that much. Which is fine, Dean has lost friends before, dealt with friendships that never really were. Cas would just be another one in a long line. Maybe a little different, because they said some shit and knew some shit about each other and alright, they’d had sex a few times, but he was just like anyone else. And if Cas didn’t really want to go on a trip around the world with him, then that was fine with Dean. Because why would he want to put himself in a situation like that? Wanting to get to know a guy and spend time with him on a TV show is one thing, actually doing shit in the real world together is a whole ‘nother. Dean gets that.

So anyway. It’s fine. Cas is just thinking like Dean. They would get through this challenge, and then they could separate, maybe pick up on the friendship thing again later. Sam could show him the Skype or whatever.

He just needs to get through this challenge. Get as much of Cas as he can, enjoy him while he has him. Have some more fun while they can. And then Dean can go back to Kansas and totally forget the crazy things this whole fucked up situation is making him think, and Cas can go back to fucking Boston, Mass. and never know Dean’s thoughts.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he’d wanted Cas to argue with him. What a clusterfuck.

He’s been erecting the tent through his entire self exploration, and by the time he finishes his issues are behind him. Cas found their instructions scroll, which had told them to bunk up for the night (duh) but had also informed them that they would set off the next morning with the same amount of time between the teams that they had arrived at the Lost World with.

Jo and Benny appear halfway through Cas saying this, which means they’re behind about five minutes. Something Dean can worry about tomorrow. He starts unpacking the basket, pulling out two cans of beans, a package of hot dogs, a pan and two blankets before he gets to the stove. It’s some kind of environmentally friendly high tech shit that turns smoke into unicorn farts or something else good for the environment. Dean has no idea. All he knows is that he needs to start a fire.

Cas disappears into the extremely small tent with the blankets and emerges moments later, appearing just in time to follow Dean’s instructions and help him clear away a fairly large area of the ground and to dig out a few handfuls of dirt in order to keep the fire they need contained.

“You know how to make a fire, Cas?”

“No,” answers Cas with interest. “Will you show me?”

“Yeah. Can you get some firewood? Don’t forget kindling.”

As Cas disappears in search of fuel, Dean finds a thin piece of wood that bends easily into a bow, a small, sturdy looking rod of wood, a thicker piece of flat bark and a rock with a sizeable divot in it.

Cas comes back with an arm full of wood, and Dean grins at his enthusiasm before picking some out, throwing the rest back towards the trees. He gathers the leaves Cas has brought along and sets them in the hole they made, then he pulls the small whittling knife from his boot and begins carving out his materials.

“What are those for?”

“So I can start the fire,” Dean explains. “It’s a way to create friction.”

Cas frowns at the small hole Dean is digging into the flat piece of wood and looks back up at him. “We have matches.”

“Cas,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

He saws some drawstring off of the backpack next to him and ties it to the bendy piece of wood, creating a small bow. Twisting the rod into the string, he fits it into the hole on the flat board, fitting the rock into the other end and steadying the board with his foot. Slowly but picking up speed, he begins to twist the rod with the bow.

Within minutes there’s smoke, and seconds later there’s a spark as a coal forms. Quickly he transfers it to the dry leaves, blowing on it gently until a small flame erupts.

“You made fire,” Cas says softly.

Dean looks up and catches the look of wonderment on Cas’ face, like he’s the first guy to make fire in the history of the world. Like he’s the only one who can, and Cas is just so fucking amazed he can’t wait to see what Dean does next. Like he’s someone special. Like there’s something good in him.

The fire eats through the last of the leaves and dies instantly. Dean swears up a storm.

Cas goes off to collect more leaves, and when he comes back he looks at Dean expectantly, excitedly. Dean repeats the process and manages to arrange the firewood in time to build a proper campfire, placing the camp stove over the top so it’ll heat properly. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Cas, because he hasn’t been to the bathroom since they’d left their cabin this morning.

Cas does his smile but not really thing, a look Dean selfishly believes is only for him, and Dean goes off to find a tree.

Cas is kind of a weird guy. Not only is he cool with Dean’s criminal past, he acknowledges it’s wrong without putting him down for it. He thinks watching a fire being made is the best thing ever and his enjoyment isn’t even ruined by Dean kicking and yelling at it a second later. And even after all of that stuff, he’s still convinced Dean is great. It’s like he takes all the bad shit with the good and just rolls with it anyway.

Which makes him pretty awesome. But he’d be awesome even without all that stuff, because he reads peoples’ souls like a book, and he can make anything look cool just by drawing it, and he’s really deliberate when he talks, like everything he says matters, which is cool because then Dean doesn’t have to listen to bullshit. And even if he doesn’t understand Dean half the time, he tries, like Dean matters just as much as the next thing he’s going to say.

It’s not until Dean’s standing in front of a tree, pants around his ankles and his mind wandering, when it hits him like a bucket of water being dumped over his head.

He fucking loves Cas.

In true Dean Winchester fashion, he’s figured this out while he’s pissing.

He walks back towards their little camp area in kind of a daze. Cas is hunched over the little stove, staring perplexedly at their small sauce pan, which is on fire, flames dancing merrily. Dean stops and stares. With the moon behind him and the flames throwing dancing shadows over his face, Cas looks different. Alien. Like one of his angels.

Fucking great. He wishes he’d never taken that piss, because now he’s gonna be a sap about everything.

Dean shakes himself out of it and continues closer, peering into the blackened mess of what he thinks was one of their cans of beans. “You making dinner, Cas?”

“I was attempting to cook for you,” Cas replies forlornly, gaze still riveted on the now dying fire inside of his pan. “I’ll get rid of this.”

"Hey, hang on a second.” Dean crouches down beside him and grabs one of their spoons, taking the pan from Cas’ grasp and sifting the contents within around until the fire goes out. Without hesitating he scoops up a mouthful of the charred mess, blows on it, and shoves it into his mouth.

His gag reflex immediately attempts to convince him to fucking get rid of it. Now.

Cas is watching him intently, so Dean manages the best smile he can and swallows heavily, running his tongue around the inside of his teeth in a desperate attempt to get rid of the bitter taste.

“Wow, Cas,” he says, swallowing again. “That’s great.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Cas tells him quietly.

“Do what? Eat some fucking fantastic food? Now shut up, I’m making you a hot dog. Can’t have beans without franks.”

“You can’t?” Cas says, taking the spoon from Dean so he can rip open the package of hotdogs and throw them on top of the stove. “I hadn’t realized they were a requirement.”

“Yeah they are. Cooking them over an open campfire is a requirement too, but we’ve got an effed up system going here,” Dean says, nudging Cas slightly with his shoulder. “What, you never camp before?”

Castiel shoots him a look, something close to a snort escaping his lips. “The closest I came to camping was having sex on a blanket outside during college. I’ve never had to cook for myself either. I eat readymade meals.”

The picture of a naked, sexed out teenage Cas lying sated in the grass is almost too much for Dean, and the overwhelming wave of pointless jealousy that follows makes him go, “Sex on a blanket?”

“Once on a park bench,” Cas nods. “My goal in college was to have sex in the most deplorable places possible. I think I hoped someone would see and tell my father, but he never mentioned it.”

Dean spent most of the year after he’d gotten out of jail having sex with as many people as possible, in as many places as possible, so he can relate. It still remains though, that the last and first time he and Cas had had proper sex, they were drunk. Suddenly, blurry, half remembered images aren’t enough for him.

“Are the hotdogs done?” Cas asks, a puzzled frown on his face, and Dean realizes that one of them has split down the middle from being over heated. He quickly fishes them off the stove with two forks, handing one over to Cas.

“Dig in,” he grins, taking a large bite off of one end.

Instead, Cas watches him eat, and it should make Dean uncomfortable but it doesn’t. He pops the last bite of hotdog in his mouth and raises an eyebrow at Cas. “You havin’ fun?”

“I’m having a good time with you, Dean,” he says sincerely, and then proceeds to nonchalantly split his hotdog and eat it in two bites without even looking like he’s trying.

God damn Dean fucking loves him.

He really should say something. Not about loving Cas obviously, because that’d be the dumbest thing he’d do in his lifetime. Telling somebody you love them is not only the sappiest thing you could ever do, it’s also the most painful. It’s painful to say, because you can practically feel the embarrassment of doing such a god damned stupid thing melting your brain, and it’s painful afterwards, when the person you’re telling looks at you blankly and says nothing. Or even worse, ‘thank you.’

So yeah, he’s never telling Cas that. Even thinking the word in relation to Cas makes him feel like maybe he’s getting a headache, so he’s not going to do that anymore, either.

Even so, he feels like he should suggest to Cas that they continue to hang out after the show after all. Hey, maybe they could date, stranger things have happened. And dating could lead to a relationship, at least for a little while, and Dean’d like that. He’d like that a lot. He could possibly keep it going even longer than his relationship with Cassie, since he’d learned his lesson about telling people how he feels.

Benny and Jo have got their fire going, and when Jo laughs loudly, Dean glances over to see her coming towards them, a smile on her face. “Hey guys!” she says happily. “Do you want to come sit with us until it’s time to sleep? Benny knows some pretty good ghost stories.”

Castiel starts to stand up, his hand heavy on Dean’s shoulder, when the cameraman who’s been filming them silently all day speaks up, “You can’t hang out together. Teams need to stay separate.”

Jo makes a face at him. “But we’re friends. We’re sleeping within ten feet of each other. That’s stupid.”

The cameraman shakes his head. “Sorry, blondie. Rules are the rules.”

“Yeah, fuck you too cameraboy,” Jo mutters, but she lets him herd her away, sniping at him the entire time.

"This show is growing tiresome,” Cas sighs, sitting back down. Dean nods, but he’s not really listening as he continues to stare at Benny and Jo’s fire.

He can’t tell Cas anything. If he told him, it would be taking all the stuff he’s said earlier about letting Benny and Jo win back. And then Cas would know something was up. There would be no way for Dean to hide it. All he can do is hope they actually win the damn show, and then they’ll be forced to spend more time together. It wouldn’t be so weird if a dating type situation appeared out of traveling around the world.

They have to win. Fuck him for stalling earlier. They could have had a ten minute head start on Benny and Jo tomorrow, instead of just five.

Maybe he should still feel selfish. After all, it still remains that Benny and Jo share a mutual like of each other, and as far as he knows, he’s the only one thinking the L-word. Benny and Jo would use the trip to connect and make their relationship even stronger. This is just Dean’s pathetic attempt at keeping Cas around without having to talk about it.

But he doesn’t feel selfish at all, for once in his life. He’s sure the guilt will come later, but for now, all he wants is this damn trip with Cas.

***

Castiel isn’t sure what he expected out of camping. He doesn’t think he’s overly attached to things, such as ovens and electric lighting, and he’s always been fascinated by nature, but he’s finding he’d never recognized how effortlessly things could be done until they can’t be done that way anymore. The stars in the sky are beautiful and visible through the sheer netting that is acting as their ceiling for the night, and Castiel is captivated, but he’s still not distracted by how much his back hurts.

He shifts for the fifth time in as many minutes, his lower back aching in protest. Maybe the tent is on top of a lot of rocks? He should ask Dean.

When he turns his head, Dean is already staring at him, although judging by the concentrated look on his face, Castiel doubts he’s really seeing him. “Dean?”

“You alright?” Dean asks, his eyes focusing on Castiel’s face. The tent is too small for there to be much room between them, and Castiel almost feels like they’re too close, though they’re not even touching.

“The ground is hard,” Castiel explains, feeling stupid the instant he says it. There’s not much Dean can do about a hard ground.

Instead of making the smart ass comment Castiel expected out of him, Dean’s eyes slide shut, his eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. A small breath escapes his lips, and he says, “Turn over.”

Castiel considers it for a second. “I don’t think that will help my back.”

Dean laughs hoarsely, pushing himself up onto his elbows and leaning over Castiel. “Trust me, I promise.”

He complies, because even if it doesn’t help, he still wants to know what Dean is going to do. With his cheek pressed to the thin pillow they were provided and his chest pressed to the hard ground, plus his hurt back, this is ten times worse than his last position.

Castiel’s about to turn back over, intent on telling Dean how wrong he is, when he feels hands slide up his back and start kneading into the muscles in his shoulders. “Dean?” he tries to say, but it comes out much more like a groan.

"Shh,” Dean says, and Castiel feels him shifting over him, can feel when Dean straddles him, his knees pressed into Cas’ hips. “I got ya, Cas. Just relax.”

Castiel can’t see what Dean is doing with his hands, and he has next to no concept of how a massage works. He doesn’t care. Dean seems to know exactly what to do, his hands roaming confidently over the planes of Castiel’s back, working him until the tension melts away and he feels completely boneless, almost exhausted with the effort of feeling as good as he does. If Castiel were ever to be sketched in oil pastels, he imagines the sketch would feel something like he does right now.

“Feel better?” Dean murmurs in his ear, and Castiel says something unintelligible as Dean follows the question by carefully massaging his earlobe.

He arches his back, and then because it feels so good, he does it again.

“Quit that, Cas.”

Half blissed out of his mind and hyperaware of every inch of Dean that is touching him, Castiel, purely to be contrary, arches his back again.

Shoving his ass into Dean’s groin is either a bad idea or a good one. Dean is clearly hard, and the effects of the massage fly immediately out the window as Castiel’s body goes into high alert.

They hold like that for a moment, Castiel propped up on his forearms with his head craned to look at Dean, and Dean still straddling him, looking sheepish. Until he coughs. “Awkward.”

It must be some kind of go-word, because all of a sudden Castiel is twisted half onto his back and Dean is on top of him, his hand threaded into Castiel’s hair and teeth nipping at his lips.

Castiel opens to him the first time Dean’s tongue soothes the sting, because he wants Dean in every way he can have him. He’s never had Dean completely, not even the first time, with the layer of alcohol separating them, and he hasn’t realized how badly he wants it until now.

He wants to love Dean, and if he can’t say it out loud he’s sure as hell going to say it with his body.

Unfortunately Dean isn’t on the same page, since as soon as he’s realized Castiel is more than happy to make out with him, his hands start tugging impatiently at the tank top he’s wearing to sleep in, obviously more than ready for Castiel to take it off.

Castiel pushes his hand away, because he wants to kiss more, but Dean pulls back, expression closed off and guarded.

“What?” Castiel asks, voice cranky. He feels like he has whiplash, between the massage and the beginning of arousal, and he’s not happy that both are suddenly gone.

“What are we doing?”

He studies Dean’s features, his face carefully held in a neutral expression as he waits for Castiel’s answer. He doesn’t know what he wants from him. Finally he says, “I want to do what you want to do.”

"I wanted to have sex with you,” Dean frowns.

“You don’t anymore?” Cas asks quietly. He leans into Dean’s space, reaching his hand down to cup him in his hand, smoothing a finger over the soft linen of his shorts. “You want to stop.”

“No, I don’t fucking want to stop,” he grumbles, and he sounds so much like a child told he can do chores if he’s really that bored, that Castiel leans forward to kiss him again. He showers Dean with attention, with his lips, with his tongue, with his hands, until Dean is squirming, his short, sharp bursts of air being panted damp and hot on to Cas’ neck as he rips his lips away, his fist clenched into Castiel’s shirt.

Castiel wastes no time in pushing at the waistband of Dean’s shorts until he moves to accommodate him, letting him slide them completely off. There’s something exciting about Dean only being naked from the waist down, with Castiel still fully clothed, and he stops to drink it in for a minute.

Dean is fully erect and kneeling, his lips swollen from kissing and his eyes dark and watchful. Castiel is thankful he says nothing, because as much as he wants to do this for Dean, he doesn’t think he could refuse any offer Dean made him, looking like this.

Castiel nudges him gently and Dean immediately leans back, still expectant, eyes growing bigger as Castiel places a kiss on his knee, on the inside of his thigh, and finally, on the tip of his cock.

“Gonna suck me off, Cas?” he asks hoarsely. Castiel only looks at him as he fits his lips around Dean’s cock, and slowly sinks down as far as he can go.

“Jesus, _Cas_.”

Castiel hollows his cheeks in response and begins working in earnest, sucking and pulling off, swirling his tongue and teasing Dean’s slit until precome drips onto his tongue. Dean tastes musky and earthy, and addictive, and Castiel barely notices that both of Dean’s hands are now in his hair, gripping and twisting and pushing.

“Cas, please, Cas, m’fucking close, I need –“ he breaks off with a whine, his fingers clenching tightly into Castiel’s head, and Castiel, who was in the process of working his way back down, swallows around him.

Dean yells out and spills into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel takes it as best he can, remembering with very mild embarrassment that Benny, Jo, and two or three cameramen are all within hearing distance.

But does it really matter? The show is over tomorrow, Cas could care less what people think of him, and Dean’s expression is beautiful, sated and content as he reaches for Cas. “Come here, dumbass,” he says when Castiel fails to move fast enough, and Castiel falls on top of him, allows Dean to kiss the taste of himself from his lips, to slip his hand down the front of his pants and begin jacking him off.

“Dean,” Castiel bites out, and Dean’s hand jerks in a sudden movement, startling Castiel into releasing the orgasm that had been building inside of him since the massage.

Dean rests his sweaty brow against Castiel’s, his hand still trapped between their sticky bodies. Castiel closes his eyes, content to have Dean everywhere around him, to smell him and feel him and taste him and hear him.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, just knows that he is beginning to drift asleep despite the returning discomfort in his back when Dean laughs softly.

"Dude,” he says quietly. “You want this to last any longer, you gotta stop saying my name like that.”

 ***

Dean thought having sex with Cas might fuck the neediness out of him. Like after they did it, winning wouldn’t be so important anymore, because he wouldn’t have such a burning need to see Cas anymore.

Instead of feeling satisfied, Dean only wants more. Which means they still have to win.

He’s making breakfast, the sun just beginning to grow hot in the sky when Cas finally stumbles out of the tent looking like a lost puppy. He can see movement out of the corner of his eye that means the cameraman is ready and waiting, and he briefly wishes Cas would put a shirt on before he decides that’s a stupid wish and that Cas looks awesome, so fuck the camera.

“Coffee,” Cas manages to grunt as he falls into sitting position next to Dean. Dean smiles slightly and nudges him.

“You said no luxuries, Cas.”

Cas cracks his eyes open enough to glare at him, and Dean shoves the mug of instant coffee into his hands, turning the heat under the oatmeal off. “You’re welcome.”

“This tastes like ass,” Cas comments mildly, but he drinks the cup of coffee in a matter of minutes and accepts the bowl of oatmeal Dean hands him next.

“That good, huh?”

“It’s not like your ass,” he makes a face and digs into the oatmeal. Dean thinks he deserves a pat on the back, because no way this stuff tastes good normally. He’d practically drowned the dehydrated oat mixture they’d been provided with in sugar. Cas definitely doesn’t have any complaints, as he finishes the oatmeal almost faster than the coffee.

Benny and Jo are going about their morning business as well, and Dean wonders how long they have to hang around here before the cameraman prods them to get going. Probably not too long, if they have to go through as much today as they did yesterday.

“We only got five minutes before Jo and Benny get to start,” he tells Cas, “So we gotta hurry, okay?”

“I’m confused,” Cas says quietly, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “I thought we were going to lose?”

“Maybe we should just see what happens,” Dean hedges. “It’s not like Benny and Jo are bad at this stuff. We shouldn’t have to pretend going the wrong way or something.”

Cas is silent for a moment, frowning out into the forest, and Dean waits for the inevitable questioning, for Cas to refuse to even try anymore. He’d only have himself to blame – he was the one who put the idea out there yesterday. But none of that comes, and Cas just nods slowly. “You’re right.”

“I’m right,” Dean repeats, and he’s fairly sure he’s able to keep the surprise out of his voice. For once he’s glad Sam isn’t here. He’d be giving Dean meaningful looks and asking him what’s wrong every ten seconds, just for being such an obvious idiot. Thank god Cas never seems to notice shit like that. “Damn right.”

“Just got the call from Jody,” one of the cameraman speaks up loudly. He’s the one who’s been filming Benny and Jo, and Dean twists so he can look at him. “Time to pack up and go! You got ten minutes!”

Dean groans silently, causing Cas to shoot him a reassuring smile before he disappears into the tent to get dressed. One more day of this TV shit.

One more day until he and Cas can have the chance to start something in the real world.

Castiel thinks if he tried to explain himself to people, the explanation would end up being too confusing. Usually they can’t connect the socially awkward and usually blunt Castiel with the man who somehow can read into their every movement, who can know their soul within hours of spending time with them. Castiel doesn’t understand what the problem is – just because he knows what somebody is made up of doesn’t mean he knows what to do with them.

The more time Castiel spends with Dean, the more different it feels. There are so many layers to him it’s impossible for Castiel to have found them all, like he can claim after spending much less time with other people. Yet he feels like he interacts much easier with Dean than with anyone else, like he can act more naturally with him.

He’d noticed Dean seemed a little off ever since the challenge started, and he really has no idea why. He thought maybe having sex would fix all that, especially since Castiel had tried to convey as well as he could how much he cared for Dean, but it hasn’t seemed to do much at all. If anything, Dean seems quieter and more closed off than he had been the night before.

Maybe Castiel had been reading Dean incorrectly the entire time. Maybe their time on the show had just been Dean muddling through it, and now that they’re about to be sent home, Dean doesn’t feel that he needs to put on a face anymore.

He doesn’t want to believe it, but it’s really the only thing he can think of.

The new instructions they’d been given that morning had told them to head out of camp and up a hill, where they’ll find a stone tablet they needed to decode. Dean had scoffed when he’d heard what they were doing, and every few minutes or so he’d break the silence by cracking Rosetta Stone jokes.

“Think the stone is gonna tell us the true meaning of love?” Dean asks, grinning slightly. “That’s the whole point of the show, right?”

“Does love have a meaning?” Castiel asks absently, not really paying attention. Dean had confused him this morning by saying they should try their best – did he want them to win, or didn’t he?

Dean starts humming, a sound Castiel barely notices until he bursts out singing, “I wanna know what love is!”

His voice is pleasantly gravelly, but other than that it’s off tune and more a yell than a melody. Yet the obvious joy on his face and in his tone as he sings more than makes up for how horrible it sounds, and Castiel is again forced to wonder at how much there still is to discover about Dean. He doesn’t think anything he learns at this point could make him dislike Dean.

“Are you singing a ballad?”

Dean smirks at him, running his hand across his mouth. The sun is beating down hot today, and just the hiking is causing them to sweat through their clothes. “Hey, Foreigner’s a classic, Cas. Don’t knock ‘em.”

"I’m not,” he says honestly. “You should sing more, you seem to enjoy it.”

“You’d probably like my baby then. She always makes me sing.”

“You have a baby?”

“She’s a 1967 Chevy Impala,” Dean says, his grin growing even wider. “You’d love her Cas. Driving down the highway with the windows down and the music blaring…no people to watch, but you can’t beat a feeling like that.”

Castiel privately thinks he would give up people watching the rest of his life if he could only watch Dean, but if he’s going to say that out loud he might as well tell Dean he loves him. “I would like to meet her, Dean.”

Dean’s smile has disappeared, and the air between them is markedly changed from the lightness Castiel felt when Dean was singing. He doesn’t know what he’s said wrong, but Dean is closed off again. “Yeah, maybe you can. Hey, you think that thing’s the tablet?”

The stone table looks interestingly out of place among the tall trees, like it’s trying so hard to belong there that it seems fake. Like a movie set waiting for actors to appear. The top of the tablet is inscribed with symbols, and Dean pulls out a map, laying it over the top to look at. Similar looking symbols run across the top of the page.

“How are we supposed to solve this?” Dean asks in exasperation. “Got your decoder ring handy, Little Orphan Annie?”

“I’m afraid it’s at home along with my Red Ryder BB gun,” Castiel says, catching Dean glancing at him sharply out of the corner of his eye as he runs a hand over the map and lists it up. “How many symbols are there?”

“Uh...twenty…six,” he says, looking away quickly and counting. “Fuck. They’re just numbers, aren’t they? What, so the first one is A, the second one is B, and so on? What a load of crap.”

“I don’t think they’d make it that easy,” Castiel shakes his head. “There are only three words we need to decode anyway.”

“Wait, lay the map back over the stone,” Dean tells him, pushing at his hand. Castiel lets the map fall back onto the tablet, covering it, and Dean laughs. “You got a pencil, Cas?”

Castiel fishes out a piece of graphite from his pocket and hands it to Dean, who promptly begins coloring over the entire map. A minute later he steps back. Some random symbols on the tablet were raised more than others, and when Dean colored over them, Castiel can see they’ve joined to create the words ‘fold the map.’

“Specific,” Dean says sarcastically.

Castiel wordlessly takes the map and stares at it for a moment, experimentally folding it first horizontally, than vertically. Finally he hands it back to Dean. “It says Heron Sea Cave.”

“How the hell’d you figure that out?” Dean demands.

“There are little pictures of the sun that instruct you to ‘fold here’. I believe the sun to be a trustworthy source.”

Dean stares at him and shakes his head slowly. “Don’t ever change, Cas.”

They make quick work of heading back down the side of the hill, which leads them right to the edge of a river. Castiel has no idea how far behind Benny and Jo are at this point, since they took so long figuring out how to read the map. Castiel has no idea whether Dean thinks this is a good thing or a bad thing.

On the bank of the river are four small kayaks, a pile of wooden rods and some rope. Dean finds the next scroll of instructions in one of two of the kayaks grouped together and reads out loud, “you must row your kayaks to Heron Sea Cave where you’ll find an idol. Retrieve the idol, and then row out to the open sea, where you will find a floating crate. Retrieve the crate, securing it between your two kayaks and head towards the tall totems on the beach, where you’ll have a crowbar waiting. First team to open their crate and cross the finish line wins.”

"And at the end of all of this we’ll be in love?” Castiel asks skeptically. Not that that ship hasn’t already sailed.

“Hadn’t you heard? I got a thing for guys who like kayaking, Cas. We do this and I’m yours for life.”

“That’s good to know,” Castiel responds, pulling two thick rods from the pile. “If we use these to lash the two kayaks together, we can place the chest in the middle.”

"You think we’re gonna be able to row in tandem?”

Castiel shrugs and hands him a rod. “I guess we’ll have to. It’s the only way we can carry the chest.”

Dean takes the other rod from Castiel as well, which is probably a good thing, since the knots he ties are ten times more intricate than anything Castiel would have used. Dean pulls the kayaks into the river, then holds them steady and waits for Cas to climb in before getting in his own.

They can see the cave from the bank, just down the river and set into the side of the hill they’d just come down. It’s easy rowing to it in the placid water of the river, but Castiel worries about what’s going to happen when they get out onto the ocean. Dean’s limitless and surprising talents seem to include rowing – Castiel, not so much.

The cave is small, about the size of the cabin they’ve been staying in, and the idol is easily recognizable, sitting on a shelf of rock towards the back. Dean grabs it and shoves it into the backpack. “We got this, Cas,” he says confidently, and Castiel thinks he looks happy. However, when they row out of the cave, he hears, “Oh shit,” and Cas takes his attention off of his paddle.

Benny and Jo are coming fast down the river towards them.

***

Dean thought they were in the clear, he really fucking did. But of course he had to spend time fucking around with Cas and talking about his car instead of decoding the damn message, and now Benny and Jo are gonna win because they actually know what they’re doing. Dean’s going to fuck everything up, and he’s never going to see Cas again. Figures out he loves him and immediately loses him. Typical Dean Winchester, fucking everything up at the last second.

They’ve reached the point where the river empties into the ocean, and Dean notices immediately when the waves get choppier and Cas starts to struggle. “C’mon, Cas, you got it,” he encourages,

He can see two small specks floating in the water up ahead, with the shore line behind them. “There Cas, you see the crates? They’re not that far.”

“I’m rowing as fast as I can, Dean,” Cas promises, and Dean glances behind him to check on Jo and Benny. They’ve just reached the mouth of the river and are rowing out onto sea, only a few yards behind Dean and Cas.

“Try to row faster,” he urges. The crates are close now, maybe twenty yards, then fifteen. It’s taking too long, though, and at five yards away Dean grows impatient. “I’m going for it,” he says, slipping out of the kayak and into the water.

“Dean, no!” Cas calls, but Dean ignores him now, because he’s so close he can see the rough edges on the wood of the crate, and he swims to it quicker then he could have rowed there with Cas, grabbing on to it to stay afloat.

“Come on, Cas!”

Cas, without Dean to help him row, is having even more trouble maneuvering the awkward kayak hybrid they’ve created, and Dean tugs at the crate, swimming until he meets Cas.

“I don’t think you should have gotten out, Dean,” Cas says as soon as he’s within earshot. “How are you going to get back in?”

Dean shakes his head, sending water droplet flying as he bobs to keep his head above the water. I’ll get it. Can you lash the crate between the kayaks?”

Cas pulls the crate up over the side of the kayak and manages to lift it over to the other side, tying it to the rods that connect their kayaks. Dean helps him as best he can and then swims back over to his kayak.

“Jo and Benny are coming.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Dean grunts, trying to heave himself back into the kayak. It bobs and Cas’ weight keeps it from flipping, but it also keeps it from moving enough for Dean to grab purchase around the seat in the middle. He tries several times before falling back into the water, frustrated and arms exhausted.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m fine.”

He hangs on the edge for a moment, cursing internally as he watches Benny and Jo get closer, before trying again.

Two minutes later, he falls back into the water with a loud swear.

“Dean,” Cas says, cutting Dean’s tirade against the fucking kayak off, “Let me help you. Grab my hand when you’ve lifted yourself up as high as you can.”

Dean holds off the kayak for one more minute before heaving himself as high as he can. Cas’ hand is outstretched towards him, and he makes a desperate grab, dragging himself into the middle of the kayak and somehow managing to sit upright again.

Benny and Jo have reached their crate and are moving it in between their boats. Dean’s messing around has allowed the current to take them further from the shore than they’d originally been, and he takes his paddle from Cas quickly. “Thanks man. Let’s go.”

Luckily Cas listens without complaint or comment (something Sam never would have done – the opportunity to make fun of Dean would be too good to miss) and he mentally adds that to the list of things he really, really loves about him. Likes. Whatever.

“I hope you’re not planning on pursuing a career as a performing seal,” Cas says, ruining it. Dean tries not think the word ‘love’ again. He fails.

The shore is growing closer and closer, but so are Jo and Benny. Dean can hear the water being displaced by their rowing, Benny’s shouts of encouragement. The tall totems the scroll of instructions had mentioned are clearly visible, and if he squints he can make out the much shorter looking totem that’s probably Gabriel.

Benny and Jo are still yards away to the right, but they now look even with Dean and Cas.

When the kayak bumps up against sand, Dean doesn’t even hesitate. He practically dives out of the boat, quickly untying the crate, while Cas follows him, joining him in time to help haul the crate out from the middle of the kayaks.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he yells, and he’s a little bit gratified to see that even though Cas picks up the pace, he still gives him a dirty look.

Running on the beach is hard, sand kicking up around them, and Dean almost goes straight past the crowbar on his way to the totems, spotting it at the last second and stopping so fast Cas nearly topples over him.

“Woah,” Dean barks, catching him and holding him steady before grabbing the crowbar. He can hear Benny and Jo yelling, Cas is saying something in his ear, but he’s not paying attention as he pries the top of the crate off, revealing another idol.

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean’s head jerks up as he meets Cas’ eyes. He’s frowning, brow furrowed. “What is it Cas? We gotta go!”

“Jo and Benny won.”

“What?”

Cas wordlessly points to the right. There, in the middle of a circle of totems, are Benny and Jo, bent over and panting in front of a smiling Gabriel.

They lost.

Benny and Jo’s kayaks are bobbing in the water, a good hundred feet closer to the totems than where Dean and Cas had landed. They’d drifted off course due to Dean’s inability to climb back in to the kayak, had wasted time as he’d tried to do it.

Dean had made them lose.

“Dean,” Cas says quietly, and Dean looks up again to see he’s offering a hand, lets Cas pull him up out of the sand and to his feet. “We still need to cross the finish line.”

“I know,” Dean replies, and he lets Cas lead him over to the totems, where they stop beside Jo and Benny.

“Hey there you two,” Gabriel says, and although he’s grinning, sounds happy, he’s much more subdued than usual. “Unfortunately, you didn’t win the trip around the world. But all of you went on an exciting journey with someone you had real chemistry with, and if any good has been done here, you’ll continue that journey when you get back home.”

“Definitely,” Jo agrees. “Benny and I have already planned our first date.”

“So, you think it’s safe to say you two found love in the wild?”

“We certainly did,” Benny smiles, slinging an arm around Jo. “We’ll keep goin’.”

“Well, I’m glad to have been there to see you connect,” Gabriel says cheerfully. “I’ll be taking full credit for this. Dean, Cas, how about you two? Did you find love in the wild?”

Dean stops inspecting the ground to look at Cas. Cas has a blank look on his face, mouth curved slightly into a frown as he deliberates.

"I believe we have created a meaningful friendship,” he finally says.

Dean can only concentrate on the grinning totem right behind Gabriel. He hopes his face is as neutral as it feels.

“Are you two going to continue to see each other?” Gabriel presses.

Dean’s jaw hardens. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Cas’ head cock slightly. “Anything is possible.”

Gabriel nods. “Fantastic,” he says, and now Dean knows his smile is fake. “We’re grateful all of you could join us here in beautiful Costa Rica, and I’m happy to see you put a little love into your loveless lives! Jo and Benny, Dean and Cas, congratulations on finding…love in the wild!”

Gabriel grins at them for a few long seconds longer, and then all of a sudden his face drops. The three cameras surrounding the drop as well. That’s it. They’ve done it. Show’s over.

Time to go home.

***

Castiel packs his bag slowly, silently. He’s already said his goodbyes to Benny and Jo, and now Dean is off doing the same, his mostly packed bag sitting on the bed beside Castiel’s own. Bobby had caught him for some closing remarks, and Jody had informed him the crew would get in contact in a month or two to see where his and Dean’s relationship stood.

He’s not sure he’d have much to tell them.

He's throwing his last shirt into his duffle when the cabin door opens, the setting sun outlining Dean in its dying light.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas," he says, his eyes falling on his packed bag. "You going?"

"My flight is in an hour and a half. Apparently it was the easiest to book."

"Yeah," Dean makes a face. "I'm gonna have to make a connection. Fucking hate flying."

"I guess it's a good thing we didn't win," Castiel says offhand, waiting for denial. Hoping for it.

Dean grunts in response and pulls off his shirt, the same one he's been wearing for the past two days. Castiel catches sight of his shoulder, of the handprint almost faded to obscurity, the skin around it now having darkened enough to even out the tan. "My handprint is almost gone."

He glances down and stares before looking up again. "Guess it is," he says quietly.

Trying to find something else to say but failing, Castiel shoulders his duffle bag and heads for the door. Opening it, he hesitated, looking back at Dean. "Maybe we could call one another some time?"

"Sure, Cas," Dean agrees. "I'll see you around."

Castiel has never been good at goodbyes, has never really needed them. Heartfelt goodbyes were meant for people you would see again soon. That was not applicable here. So he leaves, letting the door shut on Dean and on his time here.

The show had done as it promised, despite Castiel's best efforts not to participate. He'd found love in the wild. It just hadn't found him.


	12. Chapter 11

It’s basically the greatest irony of Dean’s life that he ends up right back where he wanted to be – on Sam’s couch.

He’s not on Sam’s couch right now – that’d be an all time low for eleven o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. So instead of being a bum on the couch, he’s being a semi-productive blue collar worker, kneeling on a concrete floor with wood shavings raining down on his head as he sands the underside of a table to prepare it for varnish.

This is what he loves doing, something he hasn’t done in weeks because he’s been stuck in Costa Rica, on some stupid game show Sam insisted he do. And what Sam wanted him to do hadn’t worked. He’d told him so.

He’s said ‘I told you so,’ to Sam a couple of times since he got back about a month ago. It hasn’t made him feel any better.

He tries not to think too much about Cas, or what he might be doing. Obviously Cas hasn’t thought much about him, or Dean would have heard from him by now. It’s fine though. He’s doing fine. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t even really in love with him, because how could that be possible? It was just the show.

So even though Sam keeps telling him to quit moping, he’s not actually moping. Moping would mean he was upset about something, and he’s not. This is just his regular face. He’s fine.

Cas didn’t let that dumb ass show get the better of him. Dean should respect him for that.

He doesn’t, but he should.

“Dean?” he hears Sam come in towards the front of his work room, which leads to the really small reception slash shop area where he displays a few chairs and stuff he’s made. “I brought you lunch!”

Dean crawls out from under the table and straightens up, running a hand through his hair. Sam’s looking at him, brown bag stained with grease held up hopefully in his hand. Luke is standing beside him, looking around the room in mild interest. Luke’s been around a lot lately.

“Thanks,” Dean tells him, taking the bag and popping a fry in his mouth.

Sam still looks hopeful, although he seems more ridiculous now without the bag in his hand. Dean knows the question is coming, has heard it almost every day. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean sighs, unwrapping his burger and taking a large bite. With his mouth full, he gestures towards Luke. “What’s he doing here?”

Sam makes a halfhearted bitch face at him. “He picked me up from class so you could eat.”

“This is quaint,” Luke says, speaking up for the first time. “Would you go so far as to call it a studio?”

Dean shrugs, looking around at the large, undecorated room. It used to be an old warehouse, but he’d managed to buy it up after working as a mechanic for two years when he’d gotten out of jail. Working with cars with awesome, but in juvie he’d been forced to take woodshop to be ‘rehabilitated’ and he’d actually been decent at it. He was kind of proud of himself for managing to start his own business.

There was an old arm chair in the corner he was recarving into something more modern, a half finished cabinet next to it and a broken chair on top of his workbench. There were tools and sawdust everywhere, it was messy and unorganized, but just walking in here could make Dean feel a million times better about his life. He used to come here after he’d just broken up with Cassie to play around with a carving knife and smell the sawdust.

Ever since he’d gotten back, coming to work had lost some of its appeal. Probably because he’d been on the equivalent of a three week vacation. He’d been fine in a few more weeks.

“Dean’s done a great job making this place look good,” Sam tells Luke, pride evident in his tone. “Are you almost finished up here, Dean? Luke and I were gonna go to a movie and thought you could come.”

“And be the third wheel in your creepy date night? Thanks for the offer, Sam, but I’ll pass.”

“Well it was a long shot, Sam,” Luke sighs heavily. “Do you want to try Craigslist next?”

“Shut up, Luke,” Sam says, but he’s grinning. Dean has no idea what they did together those few days without him, and he doesn’t want to. What he is forced to see is gross enough.

“You just seem off,” Sam continues as Dean licks the grease off his fingers. Jesus, is Sam still talking? “You should come out with us.”

“If I come to this movie with you, do you promise to stop asking stupid questions about how I feel?”

Sam nods quickly. “Sure.”

Dean doesn’t really believe him. Sam promised to leave him alone last time he got on an, ‘are you okay?’ kick, and then next thing he knew he was making an audition tape for Love in the Wild. Whenever Sam thought he had a solution for something, it never, ever worked, so he might as well go see the movie to get him to shut up.

“Fine. What movie?”

Luke, who’s made his way over to the cabinet and is inspecting what Dean has done so far, says, “Sam assures me you’ll only be happy if we go see Ghostbusters.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.”That movie is thirty years old.”

"They’re reshowing it,” Sam says excitedly. “Isn’t that cool?”

Dean can tell Sam is trying hard to dispel the depression he imagines Dean has worked himself into, so he forces a small smile. “That’s awesome, Sam.”

“Great,” Sam smiles back. “The movie’s at eight. You wanna head back with us and change?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dean shrugs, glancing down at his stained jeans and ratty flannel shirt. He hadn’t expected anyone today, so he’d dressed down for work. “I want to finish this chair tonight.”

“Um, okay,” Sam says, glancing at Luke. “Are you taking the Impala?”

“What the hell else would I take?”

“Yeah of course. We’ll meet you there, alright?” Sam’s got that stupid grin on his face, the one that means Dean is doing exactly what he really wants him to do. Dean hates to think he’s been depriving the kid of his awesome company for so long that he’s this excited about getting him to the fucking movies, so he doesn’t resent the grin as much as he usually does.

Sam and Luke hang around for a while longer, but Dean kicks them out after the third time Luke picks up one of his tools and asks him what exactly it is he’s compensating for. Plus Sam keeps kissing him, and no matter how glad Dean is Sam found someone he’s happy with (even if Luke is hellspawn) that’s just not something he needs to see.

He manages to get the frame of the chair carved and put back together before his stomach is rumbling loud enough to be a distraction. Sam lives close enough to his shop that he can walk home, but once he gets there he wastes no time in getting into the Impala.

“Hey there, baby,” he says when he climbs in. Usually he might feel stupid talking to his car but hey, he’s alone, and he’s been away from her for a long time. She deserves some lovin’.

Sam and Luke aren’t at the theater when Dean first shows up, which is actually pretty typical. Sam’s only a punctual freak for the people he’s trying to impress, and he stopped trying to impress Dean after he’d proven he could do double digit multiplication problems in his head when he was eleven.

The movie’s at eight, and it’s seven thirty now, so Dean figures buying a ticket and food should give Sam enough a time to get there.

One Crunch bar and various other candies bought later, and Sam’s still not here. Dean’s about ready to take his candy back to his couch and catch a Top Gear marathon.

“Dean Winchester?”

Dean looks up, pack of Skittles dangling from his mouth in an attempt to rip them open. He’s seen some gorgeous knock-outs in his life, but this girl really takes the cake. Dark wisps of long hair frame large brown eyes, and maybe her eyes are too dark and her hair is too neat, but still, she’s damn attractive. He finishes ripping the Skittles open and takes them out of his mouth. “Hey.”

Not that women coming on to him is anything new to Dean, he’s just not used to it happening when he’s so obviously not trying.

“Hey,” the women smiles, and somehow it makes her even prettier than before. “I’m Ellie. I hope you don’t mind, Sam told me what you’d be wearing.”

“Sam,” Dean repeats comprehension slowly dawning on him. There must be something wrong with him – he hadn’t even been suspicious about how overly happy Sam had been that he was coming to this movie. “Yeah, that’s cool. So, uh, how do you know Sam again?”

“We go to school together,” Ellie explains. “I’m studying to be a vet, and you know, Sam and his lawyer stuff. We were bound to meet with all the time we spend in the library. So, Sam says you’re a carpenter?”

“Yeah,” he says again, waving his hand vaguely in the air to indicate all the stuff he’s built, or something. He’s still trying to figure out how he’s been set up on a blind date without noticing. “I’ve got a place on the other side of town.”

“That’s really cool,” Ellie says, looking impressed. “You wanna get to this movie? Maybe we can talk some more after the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man has exploded.”

Dean can’t think of a polite way to get out of this, and he can’t find the energy to be a jackass, so he nods and follows her into the theater.

Ghostbusters in the same as it’s always been, hilarious and stupid. Dean figured his enjoyment of the whole thing might be ruined by the fact that he was seeing it with a complete stranger, but as far as movie watching went, Ellie was a great date. She laughed in all the right places, didn’t snort at the special effects like Sam would and was engrossed the entire time. She barely looked at Dean through the whole movie. It was kind of refreshing not to be constantly under someone’s watch.

Dean’s eyes focus back on the screen. Ray, Peter, Egon and Winston are all standing on top of the apartment building, yelling at the ghost.

He wonders if Cas has ever seen Ghostbusters. He probably wouldn’t have been totally on board with the humor, but he’d have liked it.

Shut up, Dean.

He feels guilty. He feels guilty and he hates it. Why should he? Because Ellie is pretty? Because now he’s seen Ghostbusters with her? So what? Cas probably wouldn’t feel guilty about seeing Ghostbusters with someone else. It’s not like he asked Dean to see Ghostbusters with him, or promised they would do it together.

Right this very second in some fancy ass theater in Boston, Cas could be watching Ghostbusters with someone else.

There’s no way he should be feeling guilty or weird about this in any way.

“I forgot how funny that movie is,” Ellie says when it’s over, smiling at Dean. “I haven’t seen it in ages. But it sucks we weren’t able to talk at all. Do you want to take that walk now?”

Dean does not feel guilty. “Yeah,” he smiles slowly. “Let’s take that walk.”

He pats the Impala on the hood as they walk by, just to let her know he’s not ignoring her and that he’ll be back soon. Ellie catches him and gives him an impressed look. “Is that car yours?”

“Sure is,” Dean says proudly. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Gorgeous,” Ellie nods approvingly. “Although I prefer the Firebird.”

“Absolutely not,” Dean says, and they’re off. Turns out not only does Ellie love classic cars, she works on them. She rides horses, she loves rock and she spends her weekends on a shooting range. Basically she’s the perfect woman, and Sam probably knew it. The only thing they disagree vehemently on is TV shows, and that’s because Ellie, surprisingly, is a huge fan of those adventure reality shows.

“I was on one of those,” Dean tells her, making a face. “And I can tell you from experience that they suck.”

“So you lost, huh?” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “What show was it?”

“Can’t tell you that, I signed a super important, top secret contract,” Dean teases. “They don’t suck because I lost either. They suck because they’re fake.”

“But that’s the whole point! They make life seem better, don’t they? You can imagine everyone went home with all these new friends and great life experiences.”

“Take it from me,” Dean says, spreading his arms wide. “I’ve been home a month, and it’s basically like the show never happened. I haven’t talked to anybody.”

That’s not completely true, actually. Sam set up one of those video chat things for him a few days after he got back, and within a day Charlie managed to find him. But he never seemed to have anything to say, and though it never discouraged her it did bother him enough to stop using the damn thing.

But besides Charlie, no one else had tried getting in touch with him, so it’s not really like he was lying.

“So are you lonely then?” Ellie asks.

“What?” Dean looks up. Ellie has stopped walking, so he comes to a halt as well, facing her.

“You’re lonely,” she says, and it’s not a question this time.

Dean holds her gaze a minute before looking away, back towards the movie theater. It’s late, and stores are starting to close up, the lights inside going out and casting the street in shadow. “Maybe,” he answers reluctantly, voice quiet. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

He doesn’t get a chance to look back at her, because suddenly Ellie is kissing him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Dean kisses her back, because it feels good, because hell, maybe he is a little lonely. Sam’s got Luke now, and Dean’s still just sitting around on his ass. . Loneliness aside, kissing just feels fucking good. But as soon as the initial shock of, ‘hell yeah, I’m kissing someone,’ passes, he pulls back. “Uh,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry.”

"Nah, I’m sorry, I took you by surprise there,” Ellie says sheepishly. “I should have figured, though.”

“Figured? Dean asks. “Figured what? Don’t take any of that the wrong way, Ellie, you’re damn attractive, and I like you, but—”

“But there’s someone else, isn’t there?”

Dean frowns deeply at her, because what the hell? Does he have hickeys he doesn’t remember getting or something? “What makes you say that?”

“Listen, you learn not to expect the best from a blind date,” Ellie gives him a small smile. “You’re always gonna have that question at the back of your mind, that, ‘why the hell couldn’t this guy get a date on his own,’ type of thing. I was trying to figure out what was wrong with you all night, and there’s nothing. You’re sweet and funny and incredibly attractive. So it would totally figure that you’re hung up on someone else.”

First of all, Dean doesn’t remember being any of those things, and second of all – no. He shakes his head, expression grim. “I’m not hung up on anyone, Ellie. It’s just…it’s complicated, alright? You’re a great girl, but I don’t think I’m good to date right now.”

“I get it,” she says easily, and there’s just another thing Dean could kick himself over, because what kind of girl accepts that shit without question? Ellie, apparently. Whom he still doesn’t want to have sex with, for some reason. “I still want to take you up on that offer for a drive though, if that’s cool with you.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says, because he does like Ellie, and he likes showing off his baby. “Do you need a ride home?”

“That’d be fantastic. And maybe on the way you can tell me more about this reality show you were on and this person you’re definitely not hung up on.”

Wow, and he’d almost managed to forget there must be some reason Sam was friends with this chick.

***

Before, Sam had never been a big fan of doing his homework anywhere but at the library. Home had too many distractions, with the TV and the internet and Dean. But now that Luke was spending a lot of time in the apartment, Sam found he actually liked sitting on the couch next to him and reading up on habeas corpus.

The front door opens, and he’s thankful Luke is nearby when he catches sight of the look on Dean’s face. Whatever. Sam doesn’t regret it. The show hadn’t done anything at all for Dean, much to his chagrin, but like it or not, his brother is going to have to learn how to deal with people again. “How was your date?”

“Fine,” Dean says shortly. “Not that I knew it was a date.”

“Sam didn’t want to scare you off,” Luke hums. “Did you manage not to make an idiot of yourself?”

“It was fine.”

“Are you going on another date?” Sam asks, trying not to sound too eager. He knew Ellie would not only be the kind of girl Dean would instantly like, but one he would keep liking. Hopefully that would mean he’d want to see her again.

“I don’t think so, Sam,” Dean says tiredly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t want to date, so do me a favor and don’t spring shit like that on me again, okay? Practice your match making skills on someone else. And since you guys are on my bed, I’m sleeping in your room tonight. So. Night.”

He heads into Sam’s bedroom without another word, and Sam slams the book he was reading shut, no longer interested in wrongful convictions. “Luke.”

“Yes, Sam,” Luke says in a bored tone of voice. Sam isn’t offended. Luke’s got that blank look on his face that means he’s doing complicated math in his head, made even more credible by the reading glasses he’s wearing. Sam really hadn’t thought he’d had a thing for glasses before the first time he caught Luke wearing them and had been proven wrong pretty quickly. A statistician wasn’t the job Sam expected Luke to have, but turns out he was really good at it.

“It’s not just me, right? Dean’s acting weird.”

“You mean ever since he was ripped away from Costa Rica and sent back here to mope all over again? Mm, yes, I wonder what could possibly be wrong with him.”

Luke did have a point. Ever since Dean got back, he’d been morose and moody, and Sam couldn’t really figure out why. He knew Dean had made friends on the show, and he knew he’d ended up having a good time. Hell, he’d even made good friends with Cas.

Come to think of it, he hasn’t heard much about Cas lately.

He knows Dean had had that dumb idea to drop Cas after the show, but that had been before they’d gotten close. Or so Sam had thought. And he knew for certain Cas hadn’t wanted that to happen. He definitely would have said something to Dean about it, right?

There’s no way Cas could be the exact same brand of stupid as Dean.

“Luke,” he says slowly. “Do you think…do you think Dean is pining over Cas or something?”

Luke looks up from the folder he’d been staring into and peers at Sam over the top of his glasses. “That’s incredible, Sherlock,” he says dryly.

“Well…fuck,” Sam says, surprise evident in his tone. Dean was in love with Cas. Cas was probably in love with Dean. And both were too dumb to say anything. “Well what the hell do we do now?”

***

There’s a smudge of green paint on Castiel’s knuckle that won’t come off no matter how hard he scrubs.

His studio (Inais calls it that; Castiel calls it his spare bedroom) is cluttered, filled with tables scattered with sketchbooks and a few easels with abandoned canvases set on them.

The canvas in front of him is half painted, half still lightly sketched, and though due to its subject matter he hates looking at it six hours a day, he always has a hard time moving away from it when it’s time to stop working.

“Castiel!” Giving Inais a key to his apartment is probably one of the worst decisions Castiel has ever made in his life, right up there with his decision to test out unrequited love and see how it feels. It was a blast, in case anyone was wondering. He’d definitely recommend it to anybody who needed a quick and easy way of ripping a hole out of their chest.

“Castiel? Are you home?”

“In here, Inais!” Castiel calls back, shooting one last disgusted look at the painting in front of him before setting down his brush.

“Hey, how’s my favorite painter doing?” Inias asks, peering over Castiel’s shoulder to get a good look at the canvas. “That guy again, huh? Listen Castiel, he’s pretty, but I don’t think more than a couple of paintings of him will sell.”

“I have your landscapes as well,” Castiel sighs. “And I’m working on some angels.”

“Really?” Inais brightens considerably. “I love those! Think you can have one ready to go right now?”

“Why?” Castiel asks warily. He would consider Inais his oldest and closest friend, and he knows the man cares for him, but the only time he ever sees him this excited is when he’s about to make a huge commission off of Castiel.

“The Jonathan Sepulveda Gallery down in New York is having a show tonight. Sort of a hodge podge kind of thing. The curator Hester has graciously invited you to show the piece, probably because she thinks you’ve got nice eyes,” Inais winks. “Big opportunity, Castiel.”

“And you thought I might just happen to have something ready for this?” Castiel asks, raising an eyebrow.

Inais just grins at him. “Where is it?”

“Check the easel on the far wall,” Castiel sighs. “I did a painting of our host from the show the other day.”

Inais heads over to the easel quickly, his excitement palpable. “A horn, huh? So Gabriel? This is fantastic, Cas! Why don’t you change and then we can go?”

“I guess that means you have a problem with what I’m wearing.”

“Yes Castiel, I do,” Inais says, giving him a look. “I thought Costa Rica was supposed to loosen you up. I didn’t think it would change you from well dressed to wearing a ratty old plaid shirt that looks like it’s been dug out of the reject pile at Goodwill.”

Castiel glances down and tugs the sleeves of the shirt back over his hands. It’s true he hadn’t been dressing as carefully as he normally did, but this shirt was comfortable. He’d found it in his suitcase, and he’d been painting a lot lately, so…so he just liked wearing it. Screw Inais. “I like this shirt,” he says defensively.

“Just go put on a button down, Cas.”

Even though he resents doing what Inais says, he guesses he should be thankful for it. The trip to the gallery is the long, grueling four hour journey it always is, but Castiel is rather surprised to find how truly upper scale the gallery is when they finally get there. When Inais had said hodge podge, he’d automatically assumed the show was thrown together and those coming to view the art would be in work clothes, at best. He was wrong. Costa Rica had made him forget how seriously New Yorkers took art. There wasn’t a woman here without a strand of pearls around her neck, no man without perfectly straightened cuff links.

Standing in this sea of well dressed people, knowing he’s getting side glances but unable to catch them, he’s never missed Dean more.

Inais reappears from getting Castiel’s painting wherever it needed to go, a glass of wine in hand. He hands it over and says through a smile, “At least look like you wanna be here, Cas. Nobody’s gonna approach a grumpy face.”

“I don’t want to be here, Inais. I want to be at home.”

Inais’ smile drops and he sighs. “Alright, look Cas, I’ve been putting this off long enough, because I know you get into moods, but it hasn’t let up. As your agent and manager and most especially your friend, I want to know what’s up.”

“Nothing is ‘up’, as you put it,” Castiel frowns, leading him away from the door and to the first painting on the wall, a series of circles interlocking in a dizzying pattern. “I’m working again. That’s bound to upset anybody.”

“No, no,” Inais shakes his head. “You were upset before you left, because you were miserable about your work and had no money, but this is different. I’ve never seen you like this. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d guess you were heartbroken, but I do know you better, and I know you’ve painted the same guy at least three times, so I’m not guessing. Who is he?”

Castiel stares at the painting until he can feel his eyes crossing. It’s strangely soothing. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Pretty sure ‘the man you’ve been painting over and over again’ is pretty specific, Castiel.”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel says quietly, unbuttoning his sleeves. It’s hot in this gallery, so he rolls them up to his elbows, not caring that it’s only going to get him more disgusted looks. One more unbuttoned button might get him kicked out. “He has an interesting face. I’m not sure why there has to be anything more to it than that.”

Inais laughs, and Castiel cocks his head at the sound but still refuses to look at him. “You’re such a bad liar, Cas. How am I supposed to invite this guy to your shows as your plus one if you won’t tell me anything about him?”

“Dean doesn’t want to be my plus one,” Castiel says sharply. He can’t even imagine Dean in a place like this. It’s too stifling, too dull, and he has no way of knowing if the atmosphere would begin to effect Dean as well or if he would manage to stay himself, to make the tedious events Castiel is forced to attend even better. He thinks it would be the second one, if Dean wanted to be here with him, but Dean doesn’t want to be here.

“If he’s anything like you, I’d believe it,” Inais mutters. “But if it’s for you, he might come, right?”

“You misunderstand me. Dean doesn’t want to be my plus one because Dean doesn’t want to go places with me,” he sighs, finally ripping his gaze away from the painting. His vision blurs before focusing back on Inais. “We agreed to contain our romantic relationship to the show, and now the show is over.”

“Oh,” Inais says, blinking. “Hell. I’m really sorry about that, Cas. But there are other fish in the sea, right? Ones that don’t need a TV show to have a relationship.”

Castiel chews on his lower lip and says nothing. Dean wasn’t a fish, he was something much harder to find, and Castiel was going to have to live with knowing he wouldn’t find it again in his life time.

“I’m going to go network some, if that’s okay,” Inais says gently, tapping the bottom of the wineglass in Castiel’s hand. “Drink this, got it? I’ll be back in a bit with a ton of offers. You can pick a choose which of these snobby East Enders gets to hang your work on their walls.”

Castiel knows Inais is just doing his job, so he nods and brings the wineglass to his lips. “I’ll keep looking at the art.”

“Your painting is on the far end of the gallery. Go make nice with people,” Inais calls as he leaves.

Castiel makes it around the gallery twice in an hour, none of the paintings really catching his eye. Most of them are more abstract and expressionism, an art form that never really interested Castiel. He finds himself back at the circles, staring blankly at them again. His favorite are the green ones.

He’s so messed up it’s really a wonder that he’s standing right now. It’s only nine o’clock in Kansas. He wonders what Dean is doing.

“Cassie!”

If Balthazar is behind him when Castiel turns around, he is going to lose it. And then he is going to figure out how thinking about Dean made Balthazar appear and fix it so Dean appears instead.

“Cassie!”

“Could you possibly draw any more attention to us, Balthazar?”

More unbelievable than Balthazar being here tonight is Bela being here with him. Castiel downs the rest of the wine in his glass in one long pull before turning to face them. “What are you doing here?”

Balthazar laughs, grinning brightly. “I did so miss your sense of humor, Cassie! How are you darling?”

“I’m fine, I’m working,” Castiel says, glancing between him and Bela. “How have you been since…since it ended?”

"You make it sound like we’re war veterans,” Balthazar says. “We’re surviving beautifully. We saw your painting. Gabriel, was it?”

“It was almost as good as mine,” Bela adds. “By the way, were you planning on dying anytime soon? I don’t want to sell only to have the price jump up.”

“I have no foreseeable future plans to that effect,” Castiel says sarcastically. He notices how close Bela and Balthazar are standing and tilts his head slightly. Bela is also carrying a rather large purse, when the handbags he usually sees women carrying and wearing cocktail dresses such as hers are on the smaller side. “Are you corrupting Balthazar?”

“It didn’t take much, you realize,” Bela says, arching an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Balthazar says cheerfully. “Probably never be good as bloody Dean, but then, that’s not the only event I lost to him in, eh Castiel?” he winks. “Where is the pretty bastard anyway?”

“At home in Kansas, unless you know something I don’t.” That there’s a possibility that Balthazar might actually know more about what Dean is doing than Castiel does is incredibly upsetting.

“Damn, I was hoping to talk to him,” Bela mutters. “When will he be back?”

Castiel stares at his wine glass, wishing he had more. “He was never here to begin with?”

There’s silence, and then Bela speaks up again. “Are you two bloody idiots?”

"Excuse me?”

“I’m going to have to agree with Bela on that one Castiel, no offense,” Balthazar frowns. “But what reason could there be for you two not to be together? You had to be practically removed from each other with a crowbar on the show.”

“Exactly,” Castiel shrugs. “We’re not on the show any more, so the relationship has ended. Surely that isn’t an uncommon concept.”

“No, but it is rather idiotic when the two people practicing the concept are clearly head over heels,” Bela says in a bored tone, eying a lady standing near them whose diamonds are big enough to land a small aircraft.

“I’m not sure we can speak for Dean,” Castiel says, not even denying the head over heels thing on his part. To do so would be useless and pointless. It’s not as if Bela is going to call Dean up and tell him like a high school gossip, and even if she did have the desire too, it wouldn’t hurt anything. He was too far away now to make Dean feel guilty about not feeling the same way, as he feared would happen on the show.

He hadn’t talked to the man for a solid month, frankly he’d be surprised if Dean would give Castiel’s feelings for him more than a passing thought.

“Are you two dating?” he asks, noting again how close they’re standing and desperate to change the subject.

“After weeks of persistence on my part,” Balthazar nods. “She didn’t want anything to do with me at first.”

“He wouldn’t leave me the hell alone,” Bela adds. Castiel has no idea when she did it, but the women standing just behind them no longer has her bracelet. “I finally gave up.”

“You forced her into dating you?” Castiel asks in amusement. “Out of sheer annoyance?”

“I forced her into admitting her actual feelings for me out of sheer annoyance,” Balthazar corrects. “How would I have known what she thought about me if I didn’t show her how I felt first? Can’t expect all things delivered on a silver platter, Cassie.”

Castiel’s not sure what his expression is, but his mind is completely blank as Balthazar’s words wash over him. Did he…

Did he make a mistake?

“Castiel!” Inais calls, and Castiel jerks back to reality. His manager is rushing towards them, a beaming smile on his face. “I’ve got great news, Cas!”

“Well cheers Cassie, we’ll catch you later,” Balthazar salutes him with his champagne glass and leads Bela away on his arm, probably taking several hundred dollars worth of jewelry along the way.

“What news?” Castiel asks, struggling to grasp the thread of thoughts he’d been forming only moments before. The harder he tried to think, however, the harder it was to remember why the idea that had been forming was a good one at all.

“Some big wig producer out in northern Cali caught the dallies of Love in the Wild and saw your art,” he says excitedly. “And she saw the painting here! She wants you to come out and paint some pieces for her new house! The publicity worked! Am I a genius or what?”

“Northern California?” Castiel asks, and the thoughts die. “When does she want me there?”

“Next week! This is great Castiel, you’ll see. You’re gonna be huge!”

Right. He was still poor. Getting work came before anything else he wanted to do. He at the very least owed Inais that much.

***

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Dean pays Ava to sit in the front room of his studio and deal with the one or two people that might come in so he doesn’t have to. This includes all potential clients and teenagers who think the building is empty and come in to get high or make out. Or both.

Dean’s not begrudging kids any of that, he’s just pretty sure he’d be too distracted to work if it happened.

Ava goes to college with Sam (because everyone and their dog in this town goes to college with Sam, and everyone, especially the dogs, love him) so it’s not like she’s a trained secretary or whatever the hell it is Dean is supposed to have to look more professional. Mostly she sits in the front office and reads magazines and takes her ten bucks an hour. But she does keep most everyone from bothering Dean, and she actually has managed to sell commissions for him, so he could care less what she does. She doesn’t even bug him, at all. Like ever.

He’s talked her up so much to himself he actually gets let down when he comes back from work Wednesday afternoon to find her chatting animatedly with Gabriel, Benny studying the one thing Dean has hanging on the wall, a picture of him and Sam at Sam’s graduation.

He turns around instantly to leave, but Ava calls him back. “Hey, Dean! These guys say they’re your friends!”

Ava looks slightly less bored than she usually does sitting at the desk, and even a little impressed. Dean assumes it’s because she hadn’t thought he had any friends. Depressing how right she is. “Benny, maybe,” he says grudgingly.

“He’s always had a harder time acknowledging me because I’m prettier,” Gabriel says, winking at Ava. She giggles, the first time Dean has ever seen her do that, and he figures that means it’s time to get Gabriel the fuck out of there.

“C’mon Prince Charming,” he says roughly, pulling Gabriel away from her desk and into his workshop. Luckily Benny follows without prompting, and Dean closes the door shut behind him, crossing his arms. “What are you doing here?” he asks, addressing Benny. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Europe right now or something?”

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Well hello to you too, brother. Did you know you only live about two hours away from me n’Jo?”

Dean frowns in confusion. “So?”

"So? Mighta been nice to hear from you,” Benny rolls his eyes. “Instead I gotta come all the way down here just to make sure you’re doing fine. Charlie says you won’t answer her calls.”

“You’re talking to Charlie?”

Benny mimics Dean and folds his own arms. “Yeah. She actually wants to be my friend.”

Dean sighs and slumps, hands falling to his sides. “It’s not that I don’t wanna talk to you guys,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just…I’ve been busy.”

Gabriel lets out a low whistle from where he’s bending over a nearly completed dining room table. “I’ll say you have, Deano. This is pretty enough to have sex on top of.”

“What’s he doing here?” Dean asks Benny. Out of everyone on the show Benny was the last person he expected Gabriel to be hanging around with. He was way too much like Bobby. Only difference was, Benny probably woulda tried to throw a punch by now.

"I volunteered to drop off their plane tickets,” Gabriel says, sauntering back over to him, running his hand along polished wood the entire time. “He invited me along to come see you. Knew how much you’d be missing me, Bucko.”

“I accidentally mentioned I might want to order some furniture from you and he inserted himself in my truck,” Benny says, looking pained. Dean tries to imagine that car ride, but all he can manage is a high pitched buzzing noise before his brain shuts down from the sheer absurdity of it all.

“So was this trip for a friendship lecture, or to order some chairs?”

“Little bit a both,” Benny shrugs and shoves his phone at him. “I decided I was ordering from you the second I saw the desk out front, so put your number in here. Pretend it’s only gonna be business calls if it makes you feel better.”

Dean enters his number into Benny’s cell, keeping an eye on Gabriel as he starts wandering again. If he gets anywhere near the power saw, Dean’s gonna need to dig out his pistol or something.

“My brother and Cassiopa get along alright?” Gabriel calls casually.

It takes a moment for Dean to decipher what he’s saying, and even then he doesn’t understand. “What?”

“Luke and Cas,” Gabriel clarifies, and it’s strange to hear him say their names without anything extra. “Bet it’s hard to double date with them.”

“We’re…not doing that,” Dean says slowly, handing the phone back to Benny.

Gabriel frowns and tips his head back. “Yeah. I guess big brother wouldn’t want to share his Sammy.”

“Gross,” Dean says shortly. “I mean, Cas isn’t even here, so I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at.”

“What?” Gabriel snaps, head coming down so fast his chin almost hits his chest. “Where is he?”

“Doing artsy stuff up north? Who the hell cares?”

Benny’s gaze is boring into Dean in an intense kind of way he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t you care?”

Dean won’t look at him. “Should I?”

Suddenly Gabriel is in his face, expression dark. “What the hell did I put my job on the line for,” he says lowly, jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest, “if you two morons aren’t even together?”

“We were never meant to stay together,” Dean says sharply, slapping his finger away. “All we talked about was the show.”

“I’m working with idiots,” Gabriel groans, stalking away again. Dean’s really worried about the power saw now.

“Look Dean,” Benny starts. “I know we don’t know each other too well outside the show-“

“You’re right, we don’t,” Dean says shortly.

“-but I’m gonna say what I have to say,” Benny finishes, glaring. “It may have only been a few weeks, but we were in the trenches together, brother. We were fighting for somethin’, no matter how dumb you think that somethin’ was, and we got a connection because of it. Joanna Beth and me, we clicked out there in that damn jungle, and I don’t need to see you moping and snapping like you are to know the same thing happened with you an’ Cas. So I got one question for you – why’d you decide to stop clickin’?”

“Because that damn show isn’t real life, Benny,” Dean says, more tired now than anything else. Why can’t everybody just leave him alone? He understands things with Cas couldn’t work out – everyone else needs to respect that. “We don’t click out here, or whatever the hell your metaphor is.”

Benny shakes his head. “I can’t make you try or anything, brother, but I can sure as hell point out that you haven’t.”

Gabriel stomps back into sight, muttering. “I’m going to see my darling bro,” he announces to the room, sending Dean a dirty look. “You just stay here and continue making bad life decisions.”

He leaves as dramatically as he can, which is pretty damn dramatic, and Dean lets out a breath, looking around the room and avoiding Benny’s steady stare again. “So. You want some chairs?”

***

Wednesday is Sam’s toughest day. All morning he sits through a freshman undergrad law class he has to grade for. He hates the professor, and he has to listen to her drone on as he struggles through hundreds of papers, the majority of which from kids who could care less about court systems. One had even only said, “This is for my GE. Fuck da police.” After that, he has to sit for another two hours in the history of America’s judicial system which, while not totally uninteresting, is incredibly dry and not exactly what Sam had imagined becoming a lawyer would be like. It always reminded him he had yet to set foot in a court room in any capacity other than to observe whomever he was interning for.

So Wednesdays were kind of depressing, and all he really wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and relax. Preferably with his boyfriend.

Figures that when he pushes the front door open, he hears yelling coming from the kitchen.

It’s not Luke and Dean, although Sam almost wishes it was, since he hasn’t heard Dean really raise his voice in weeks. Gabriel is standing on the edge of their counter, chocolate sauce raised threateningly over his head, while Luke stands below him, looking completely unconcerned that Gabriel might tip it at any second.

“Holding him back a grade was _my_ idea, Luke. Play nice and admit it.”

“I’m not a liar, Gabriel,” Luke sighs heavily. “I’ll give you the Christmas tree. That one was uncreative enough.”

“The Christmas tree?” Gabriel sputters. “I only pulled that stupid prank because you convinced me to!”

“And you looked stupid because of it,” Luke says promptly. “What have you done recently? I managed to get him on a flight to Ohio instead of Hawaii for the start of his trip last year. Amazing how I was able to pull off a better prank than you even when it had to do with your own show.”

Sam sees the bottle start to tip and decides to speak up before he’s mopping chocolate sauce off the floor and trying to convince Dean no, it wasn’t a sex thing. “What’s going on?”

“Hey Sambo,” Gabriel says, like he hadn’t been arguing moments before. “Luke and I were discussing our brilliant ideas.”

“I’m winning, since I’ve had more,” Luke adds.

Gabriel makes a face and hops off the counter, Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup still in hand. “That’s a load of bullshit, Luke. With this Dean thing, I’m years ahead of you.”

"Interesting, since I’m the one who came up with most of that plan.”

“Wait, wait.” Sam holds up a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose before dropping his bag to the tile floor. “What Dean thing? Or better yet, Gabriel, what the fuck are you doing here?”

"Visiting you, you ungrateful excuse for Bigfoot,” Gabriel makes a ‘duh’ face.

“Okay,” Sam says slowly, turning to look at Luke. Clearly Gabriel isn’t going to be any help. “What’s going on?”

Luke is already picking up the discarded newspaper on the kitchen table, and Sam knows he’s got maybe a minute to become interesting before he loses him to Sudoku. “Gabriel drove down here to see me and met with Dean along the way. He was upset to hear your brother is in denial and hates himself, so when he arrived here we came up with a way to fix that.”

“What is it?” Sam asks quickly.

Luke shrugs. “Kick him out.”

“Seriously?” is all he can say in response.

“Seriously,” Gabriel tells him, squirting some of the chocolate sauce into his mouth. Sam wrinkles his nose. “Luke says he’s been bumming it on your couch. So kick him out.”

“How exactly is that a good plan?” Sam asks, grabbing the bottle from him. “He’s already upset, that’s not gonna help.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Sam, would you say your brother is a very social man?”

“No…” Sam says hesitantly.

"So basically you, Cas, and maybe a couple of other people are the only ones he’s really connected with.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“If you kick him out, where’s he gonna go?”

“He’d live in his car,” Sam answers immediately and with complete certainty. Even if there was someone Dean would be fine staying with, his pride would never allow him to ask. He’d been doing everything for himself since age five, and Sam couldn’t see him stopping that trend now.

“That’s what I said,” Luke spoke up from behind the newspaper. “This is why I’m winning, Gabriel.”

“Sure, and I’m the tooth fairy,” Gabriel snaps back. “What do you think the kid should do?”

“He should still kick him out,” Luke says, “we just have to make sure Dean’s only option is to go to Cas.”

Gabriel grins widely. “I get to break the car.”

“Dean would kill you,” Sam says. He has to admit, from the standpoint of a complete lunatic, the idea has some merit. That is, if Dean really does miss Cas as much as they’re all assuming. Sam knows his brother incredibly well, but this behavior is all new to him. After Cassie, Dean had thrown himself into doing things. Driving fast, making furniture, cooking. For the past month he’s just been kind of…here, without really being Dean. Maybe something is seriously wrong with his brother, and kicking him out would only drive him to something drastic and scary.

“Dean isn’t going to do anything on his own, Sam,” Luke says quietly. “I doubt Castiel will, either. They’re both too stubborn. I know you worry about your brother, but perhaps it’s time to push baby bird out of the nest.”

“Yeah, we know they have giant love boners for each other,” Gabriel mutters, hopping on top of the table. Luke swats at him and he leans away. “Somebody might as well get laid.”

“Let me talk to him first,” Sam says, voice resigned. Maybe he can take Dean out to a bar tomorrow. If something really is wrong, or he really does have feelings for Cas, it’ll all come spilling out over sticky laminated wood. The bar is their safe place.

And then Sam can decide whether or not he should kick Dean out.

***

A dab of green. New paintbrush. Highlight in white. Delicate brush strokes. More green.

 _Joyful, joyful, we adore thee_.

Something still doesn’t feel right. It looks fine, but it’s like he’s sure that it shouldn’t. Something is nagging at him, tugging annoyingly at his chest. He goes for the green again.

_God of glory, Lord of love._

He puts the paintbrush down after barely two strokes. This isn’t fun, or fulfilling. He thought he’d fixed this problem, but apparently he hasn’t. It’s not like he’s even painting scenery, he’s painting _him_ , and he feels worse than he’s ever felt in his life.

_Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!_

It takes a moment for Castiel to realize his phone is ringing, and when he does he drops everything and scrambles to reach it on his window sill. The only person who ever calls him is Inais, but he’ll still take that over having to stare at this painting any longer.

“Hello?”

"Yes, Castiel Novak? This is Naomi Godwin. I’m the producer who contacted your manager about creating some art for my home. Have you gotten your travel details all sorted out?”

“Oh,” Castiel says, taken aback by the sudden influx of words in his previously quiet world. “Yes. I was able to get a flight, but unfortunately it’s a connecting one. And it’s late. I will be able to meet you Saturday morning.”

“That’s fine, fine. I’ll contact your manager with all the details. Don’t bother with a hotel, however. I insist that you stay here. How many rooms?”

“Rooms?” he asks in a confused voice. “I – thank you. I only need one room.”

“Good for you,” Naomi says in an impressed tone of voice. “I’ll have you know that Seattle is one of the most progressive cities in America. You and Mr. Winchester shouldn’t run into any problems.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are bringing your muse, aren’t you?”

“Dean isn’t my muse,” Castiel frowns. Clearly he wasn’t, or this painting of him would be going much smoother. “I’m afraid he won’t be coming. We haven’t spoken since the show.”

"I see,” Naomi says after a slight pause. “I apologize. I assumed after seeing the dallies you might be bringing him along for inspiration.”

“No,” he says awkwardly. “Just…me.”

“Well that works just as well,” Naomi says crisply. “Should I expect you at ten sharp on Saturday morning? I’d like to have a meeting over color schemes and thematic elements, and then we can plan from there!”

“Sounds exciting,” Castiel says. It sounded boring. “Do you know how many paintings you’ll need? Is there a deadline?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” she says dismissively. “Inais did mention the pay, didn’t he?”

Inais never said anything about the pay, because at this point Castiel is pretty sure Inais would be happy to sell one of his paintings for twenty dollars at a flea market. When he tells Naomi as much, she names a number that leaves him staring blankly at the nearly finished painting across the room.

“Thousand?” he repeats quietly.

“Just as a down payment. Don’t worry Castiel, I’m fully prepared to pay you exactly what you’re worth.”

She says some other things, filler information Castiel is able to politely hum his way through without really paying attention as he quietly panics. The phone is pressed to his hear long after Naomi says her goodbyes, the monotone buzz of a finished call like a taunt in his ear.

 _You can’t paint_. It seems to say. _You can’t do anything_.

He can’t do what he loves. He can’t have who he loves. There is no way Castiel is worth any amount of money, no matter what Naomi thinks. People worth money actually do something to earn it. They make things. People worth anything share their wealth.

Castiel tried, but Dean never understood how much he meant to him, and that’s all his fault, because he was afraid of Dean’s reaction.

Castiel can hear Inais now, telling him it doesn’t matter, that tortured souls make for better art anyway. Castiel’s soul doesn’t feel tortured though. It feels numb, like it’s not even there at all.

There was no way Castiel could paint anything good for Naomi.

What was he thinking?

***

If Sam started acting any more suspicious than he already was, Dean was going to offer him a baseball hat and sunglasses.

It’s not like he couldn’t see Gabriel, staring bug eyed at them from a booth in the corner, his face half hidden behind a menu. And Luke was clearly draped across the bench across from him. But Sam got all pissy when Dean pointed out how bad he was at espionage, so whatever. He’d keep quiet. After all, Sam was buying.

So he sips at his free beer and enjoys the silence. He knows the kid’s not gonna say anything because he thinks that’ll be too obvious, and if he’s gonna be like that then he can squirm while Dean enjoys his good buddy Blue Moon.

There’s a large TV behind the bar where the Royals are getting their asses handed to them by the Red Sox, and Dean watches as the pitcher lets yet another batter walk.

“Eight to two,” Sam says from beside him.

Dean glances at the score, currently five to two in the seventh, and shakes his head. “No more runs? That’s harsh Sammy. I say ten three.”

He hopes bonding is all Sam wanted, that the old familiar game will be enough for him. Apparently childhood memories aren’t distracting enough for Sam anymore though, because he laughs and says, “Maybe, but they’ve been bad all year.”

Dean shrugs and tilts his bottle to his lips. “There’s always next year.”

“They had a good team this year.”

“Yeah, well, it just wasn’t their year Sam. What can I tell ya?”

“They still have half the season to go,” Sam argues. “They can turn it around if they try.”

As far as Dean knows, Sam hasn’t sat down and watched a baseball game since he was in his teens, and there was no way he was a Kansas City Royals fan when Dean still had yet to meet an actual one. He got the feeling Sam was talking about something more than baseball, and he really didn’t wanna get trapped there.

“They play Cleveland next,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it.

Miraculously, it is. Sam shuts up, and he buys Dean more beer and bacon loaded potato skins. They watch the game in companionable silence, and Dean notices through kind of a warm and fuzzy haze around ten o’clock when Luke walks out the door, although Gabriel is still in his booth.

This is the first time he’s felt content since the show ended. It’s not really a happy kind of content, but it’s certainly a livable one.

The Royals lose seven to two, and since Sam had the closer guess, Dean buys him a beer this time around.

“Chances?” Sam asks suddenly, nodding to a couple in the corner, and Dean smiles at the game, this one much newer than the last.

The woman is rocking purple hair and has a leather slouchy purse slung over the back of her chair, while the man is still in a suit, hair combed flat. “She’s more the artsy type, and he obviously came straight from his office job,” Dean says. “He’s been sneaking glances at the TV and she barely looks up from her plate. I give them tonight.”

“Ouch,” Sam winces, but he doesn’t argue the evaluation, turning his attention instead to the table right behind them at the bar. "What about them? Chances?"

The woman’s wedding ring is proudly on display as she leans closer to her husband, accepting the fry he feeds her as she giggles. He looks on with a large grin as he says something, and when she laughs again his eyes light up at the sound. It’s like no one else in the bar exists but them, and if Dean had to call anything love, this would be it.

“Two years,” he says dismissively, turning back around.

“What?” Sam squawks in girlish disbelief. “Why?”

Dean knows how Sam thinks. Even with their sucky childhood and absolutely no healthy romantic relationships to influence him, Sam is a huge romantic. He thinks people could actually fall in love at first sight and that getting married means you’re soulmates or some shit. In Sam’s mind, the couple behind them were as good as glued to one another for the next century.

Things don’t work like that, and Dean knows it all too well. People die or become alcoholics, or they fall out of love, or they were never really in love in the first place. Soulmates were only soulmates until they were screwed over by life, because nothing lasted forever. Frankly it wouldn’t surprise him if there was no such thing as soulmates at all.

Look at him and Cas. Dean would gladly go with him wherever he wanted, even if it meant flying on a plane. That’s how far gone he was. Wasn’t that what a soulmate was? Taking a plane for somebody? But Cas didn’t want anything to do with him. It wasn’t real. Nothing mattered.

“Because,” Dean grunts, turning his attention back to his beer. “It never lasts, Sam.”

Sam opens his mouth and then closes it again, probably because the only examples of stuff that lasts he was about to spew at Dean were from books he’d read. Books that weren’t real. Dean rests his case.

“You can’t think like that, Dean,” he finally says quietly.

“Why not? That’s how it works.”

Sam purses his lips and starts picking at the label of his beer bottle. “It doesn’t always work like that.”

Dean huffs out a breath. “Does for me.”

Sam gets this look on his face and glances at Dean. “Is this because of Cas?”

“No, Sam,” Dean says, giving him a slightly disgusted look. “This is not because of Cas. This is because every time a relationship starts another one is dying. It’s because sometimes you don’t even get a relationship. Nothing to do with Cas, everything to do with how much it sucks to be a human.”

“Gotcha,” Sam nods, but he doesn’t do a very good job of sounding convinced. “Probability says if you keep trying you’ll find someone though. Maybe when you feel ready you could try again. Not everything about being human is bad.”

“Sex is good,” Dean allows, signaling for another beer. “So’s alcohol. Wouldn’t mind trying again if only those things were involved.”

“That doesn’t sound like a life, Dean,” Sam says bluntly. “Neither does sleeping on my couch, if I’m gonna be honest.”

Dean laughs as he accepts a new bottle from the bartender. “You kicking me out, Sammy?”

“I hate to,” he says quietly. “But yeah, Dean, I am. You need to start living again. I’d love to help you find a place, or anything else you need, but you need to get off the couch.” He stands up, placing a couple of bills on the counter. “You’ve gotta keep going, Dean.”

Dean watches in silence as Sam leaves the bar. He notices sometime during their conversation Gabriel has disappeared from his booth. Next to Sam’s money is a napkin with a number on it. He barely looks at it before crumpling it up and stuffing it in his pocket. Pushing his almost full beer bottle away, he stands up.

Sam doesn’t want him. Cas doesn’t want him. There was really only one option left to him.

***

Flying had never been a huge deal for Castiel. He’s done it enough in his life so that each plane ride is no longer some huge treat, but he hasn’t flown so much that he’s become cynical and business-like about airports and flight times. There’s still some magic left to the whole thing, some sense of adventure.

Which is why it really makes him angry when the airlines do their best to take that magic away.

His flight from Logan was on time and had gone without a hitch. He’d arrived in Chicago at around ten in time to catch his flight to Seattle at quarter to twelve.

It was twelve thirty now and he was getting hungry. His flight from Chicago was delayed indefinitely due to bad weather. Through the window he could see the tarmac soaked with rain water, and the trees far into the distance were waving back and forth violently with the force of the wind.

One more hour of this and he’ll have to call Naomi and let her know he’s going to be late. Which was probably a good thing, it let him put off the moment when he revealed there was nothing he could do for her.

He hoped she wouldn’t be too angry, and that a full refund of both her down payment and the plane ticket would be an acceptable solution for his inadequacy.

His laptop is almost dead, since he’s been sitting in this terminal staring at the screen for almost an hour now, after already using it on the plane. The screen above the ticket desk still reads ‘delayed’ in all caps, like the word isn’t depressing enough on its own, and it needs to be yelled to get its point across.

He’s getting fairly worried those words are going to change to ‘canceled’ soon. He’s never been to Chicago, and he doesn’t want to be here. With his luck he’d probably end up having to sleep in the airport instead of in a hotel.

So far his impression of the city hasn’t been a very good one. It was definitely windy, just like he’d heard. Fucking wind.

If he’s going to be here awhile, he might as well get food. Castiel packs up his laptop and shoulders the bag, picking up his suitcase to pull behind him. No doubt his seat will be taken the second he leaves, but there are plenty of places to sit on the floor and really, at this point he’d probably give up half of what was in his wallet for a cheeseburger. He hefts his portable drawing board up and sure enough, as he walks away out of the corner of his eye he sees someone else take his seat almost immediately.

The golden arches of McDonalds are glowing cheerfully just down the concourse, and Castiel heads over there gratefully, a bag full of cheeseburgers and fries in his hands within minutes. Across from the restaurant is a stretch of wall people are lounging against, and Castiel spots a free spot, dropping his bags and sliding down next to a serious looking man in a black hoodie.

Maybe this is worth it for something, he thinks as he unwraps his cheeseburger from its wrappings. He never lets himself eat McDonald’s in the city, because they were bad, but they were also incredibly, incredibly good.

Did Seattle have In-N-Out Burger? Castiel knew that was a West Coast thing.

“Has your flight been delayed as well?”

Castiel glances at the man beside him, half the cheeseburger in his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he nods. “Yes, which is very unfortunate.”

"Business or pleasure?” he asks, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Business,” Castiel replies. “I’m an artist.”

“Really?” he says, a slight arch of his eyebrow the only indication that this is at all interesting to him. “That’s fairly admirable. My name is Gadreel.”

“I’m Castiel,” Castiel says, glancing at the McDonald’s bag between them. “Would you like a burger?”

“Thank you,” Gadreel says, taking a burger with the same gratitude and carefulness you’d expect somebody to take a newborn with. “Where does an artist go for business?”

“The good ones go to Europe. I’m on my way to Seattle.”

“Seattle is a hotbed of young talent,” he says seriously. Castiel glances at him curiously and Gadreel supplies, “I’m a talent agent. I find the perfect person to fit any situation.”

“Have you discovered anyone good?”

“Ariana Grande.”

Castiel continues to stare at him as he pops a fry in his mouth. “I don’t know who that is.”

“I think she sings now,” Gadreel shrugs. “I don’t keep track.”

Castiel cracks what feels like his first smile in a long time. “Your job sounds interesting.”

“As does yours,” he nods in return. “What are you going to paint in Seattle?”

“I paint angels,” Cas sighs. The traffic through the airport has died down to a trickle, with everyone around just waiting for the storm to die down so they can board their plane. “A very rich woman would like some of these paintings for her house.”

“Lucky for us there are rich people, isn’t it? Otherwise we’d be out of a job.”

“Agreed. I doubt anyone but those with extra money would pay for my art.”

“We all have our indulgences,” Gadreel says. “Surely there is someone out there who wants your art whether they can afford it or not.”

Castiel purposely does not think of the first person that comes to mind and reaches into the bag for his second hamburger. “Maybe.”

They sit in silence as Castiel eats his burger and finishes his fries. There is a mother across the hall with her two sons, feeding them bites of pizza one at a time as they run around with energy no one else around them can seem to muster. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gadreel glance at his watch.

“When was your flight supposed to leave?”

“Three hours ago,” Gadreel sighs humorlessly. “I could be on my way home by now.”

“Where do you live?” Castiel asks curiously.

“In Kansas. Town called Lawrence. I’d be halfway there by now if I were driving.”

Castiel slumps back against the wall and closes his eyes. The universe must hate him, that’s all this could be. Any chance it got, it was going to remind him of Dean, and what he couldn’t have. What were the chances the man he sat down next to would be heading to the only place Castiel really wanted to be?

“I hadn’t realized Lawrence garnered such a reputation,” Gadreel jokes next to him.

“It’s more what’s in Lawrence that bothers me.”

“Ah yes. Our Antique Mall has grown much more popular recently.”

Castiel has been to antique malls, some of them with a scarily intense religious bend. He doesn’t want to ask what’s wrong with this one. “I know someone who lives there.”

“I see,” Gadreel says. “And this person brings you bad memories.”

Castiel remembers Jack Daniels and ocean views and horses and beautiful smiles and shakes his head slowly. “I guess not,” he says quietly. “Not bad. Just…hurt.”

“Hurt, I think, is bad, correct?” Gadreel asks with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you enjoy the hurt.”

“Of course I don’t enjoy it.”

He shrugs. “Then you must be open to changing it, if you have accepted it.”

Castiel tilts his head. “What?”

“The first step is acceptance,” Gadreel says, tapping a finger on the floor. “And after you have accepted something, you may change it. If you don’t want the hurt, perhaps you can make it something else.”

Even though Gadreel is getting close to quoting the Twelve Step program, Castiel can’t help but think that it applies. It’s been more than a month since he’s seen Dean and been rejected by him, the fresh pain of Costa Rica has faded to a dull pounding ache far in the back of his chest, a feeling he’s gotten used to. Without Dean, he has been unable to enjoy his art, even though he is no longer doing landscapes. He has no social life and he can’t make a living, not too different from the place he was in before Love in the Wild, except this time, he knows the feeling of something better. Instead of living in mediocrity his whole life, he has experienced his own happiness and has had it taken away from him.

He has accepted this. Gadreel is right. It’s time to change things. He can move on, or he can fight for that small burst of sunlight his life had.

“How far a drive is Lawrence from here?”

Gadreel squints at him. “Nine hours. Give or take.”

Castiel pulls himself to his feet as Gadreel continues to look at him from his place on the ground. “I’m going to rent a car. Would you like to accompany me?”

“To Lawrence,” Gadreel says, and there’s no questioning tone in his voice.

“Yes,” Castiel nods his head quickly, doesn’t think about it too much for fear it will change his mind, that he’ll lose his nerve yet again. “I’m going to Lawrence.”

***

Dean didn’t come home last night, and that’s because Sam is the best ever. Yeah, so maybe Gabriel and Luke deserved a little bit of the credit for coming up with the whole plan, but Sam is the one who actually carried it out. He wouldn’t have if he thought it might hurt Dean, but his brother was so miserable and horribly cynical last night he doubted anything he said could have made it worse.

And clearly it hadn’t. Dean didn’t come home last night, which means he was doing it. He was going his own way. Sam would let him be for a few days and then call, see if he needed any help moving into his new apartment, or with calling Cas.

His brother was finally going to be happy, and Sam couldn’t be happier because of it.

“Have I ever told you how great you are?” he asks Luke.

“I’m getting tired of hearing it, actually,” Luke replies, glancing at him. “Are you nervous about something?”

“Should I be?”

“You keep tapping your foot,” he says, placing a hand on Sam’s thigh. “Way too early for a Saturday morning, I might add.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, guess I’m happy. Am I distracting you from the stock market?”

For some reason unknown to Sam and the rest of the population of the world, Luke watched the stock report every morning in order to wake up. It didn’t even seem to depress him. Sometimes he even laughed. That should probably be scary, but it always somehow made Sam’s day seem better.

“The DOW is down,” is all Luke says, smiling, and Sam shakes his head, hauling himself off the couch when he hears a knock on the door. He’s still in his flannel pajama pants, but anyone who wants to visit this early in the morning can deal with it.

“America is going to go bankrupt and you’re going to enjoy it, aren’t you?”

“It’s not like I keep my money here,” Luke says dismissively, and Sam is smiling when he opens the door.

Cas looks tired and worn out, clothes rumpled like he’s slept in them and suitcase piled behind him.

"Holy shit,” Sam says eloquently. “That was fast.”

Castiel blinks at him and tugs sheepishly at one of the sleeves of his coat. “Sorry for showing up like this,” he says hesitantly. “Jody had your address –“

“No, it’s totally fine,” Sam says quickly, opening the door wider and stepping aside. “Come on in man. Hey Luke, look who it is.”

“It’s Castiel,” Luke says, barely glancing at him. “I told you it would work.”

“That was fast,” Sam repeats, because it was all he can think to say. “Dean’s not here, but he’s probably coming soon, right?”

“I…guess?” Cas answers, looking confused as he sets his drawing board and laptop bag onto the counter.

Sam’s barely paying attention to what he’s saying, still unable to believe Cas is actually here. The plan actually worked. Jesus, Dean must have called Cas’ number the second Sam left the bar. “Here, sit down. Do you want some coffee?”

“Thank you,” Castiel says gratefully, settling into a bar stool. He looks a little more alert now, eyes skimming past Luke on the couch and over to the hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom. “Dean stays here with you, doesn’t he?”

“Used to,” Sam says, pushing a full coffee mug towards him. “But he left last night. He must have told you, right?”

Castiel squints at him. “What do you mean? I haven’t spoken to Dean.”

There’s a brief moment where Sam’s heart stops, and when it does start again he only has enough breath to wheeze out, “What?”

“I haven’t spoken to him,” Castiel repeats carefully. “Where is he?”

"I thought he was with you! I thought – I thought he called you!”

“No,” Cas says, beginning to look alarmed now. “Sam, what happened?”

“Fuck,” Sam hisses, running a hand through his hair. “We went to a bar last night, and I asked him to move out – I thought he would have called you.”

“Oh,” Cas says, his face expressionless. “No. He didn’t.”

“Cas. I haven’t seen him since I left him at the bar last night.”

Now Cas’ eyes widen, and he stands up immediately. “Do you know where he could be?”

“Maybe?” Sam groans. “Fuck. Fuck, he thinks I hate him.”

“He wouldn’t do anything, would he?”

Sam feels his heart stop a second time. Surely once more and he could be declared legally dead, right?

“Sam?” Luke is suddenly right beside him. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if he’d do anything,” he says quickly. “He’s been so weird – I have no idea. I don’t think so. No – no he wouldn’t do anything.” Sam bites his lip. “We have to find him anyway. I’ll go to his workshop. Cas, you walk downtown and see if you can spot him or his car.”

“What does his car look like?” Cas asks promptly.

“Black. It’s a ’67 Impala, if you know –“

“I’ve got it,” he interrupts. “I’ll go look. Try his phone, perhaps he’ll answer you.” He’s out the door before Sam can reply, not that he has time to anyway as he searches frantically for his keys.

“Luke, can you –“

“I’ll come with,” Luke says. “I can call while you drive, or you can call and I’ll drive. It’ll be fine, Sam.”

Sam leads him out the door without saying anything. If Dean was off on some self-loathing mission, he was never going to forgive himself.

***

Castiel’s never been big on worrying. It takes a lot of energy to do, so he never worries over anything having to do with himself, and he’s never cared about anyone else enough to worry about them. Lately though, after the show, he’s been worrying. He worries that Balthazar will get caught and go to jail, he worries that perhaps Charlie doesn’t like him after all, he worries he’s letting Inais down. Caring about people, it seems, means that you are going to worry.

And now he’s worried about Dean, and where he is, and what he’s doing.

He can’t pretend he’s not also worried that Dean won’t want to see him. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Dean, rather than call him after Sam told him to get his own place, had decided to run away. Presumably because running away was preferable to even talking to Castiel on the phone.

Castiel supposes he has his answer now. It was doubtful Dean would ever feel the same way about Castiel as Castiel did about him. That wasn’t going to stop him from telling Dean though. Gadreel was right, it was time for change. Telling Dean he loved him would at the very least lift the weight of the feeling off of his chest, and perhaps after time Dean would consent to being friends with him once again.

Coming from Boston, Castiel hadn’t expected downtown Lawrence to impress him all that much, but it was surprisingly crowded. He’s found his way onto Massachusetts Street, a road lined with stores and restaurants and teeming with a fair amount of people. Frankly it doesn’t seem like the kind of place Dean would want to be, and he has no idea why Sam would send him here. He’d have been much better off going to Dean’s workshop.

Then again, perhaps Sam sent him away on purpose because he knew exactly where Dean was and he wanted to warn him Castiel was here. It still didn’t matter. Castiel was going to say what he’d come here to say.

A large group of women stagger past him, their makeup smudged and hair disheveled. One of them is wearing a tiara that says “Bride to Be,” and once Castiel spots that a couple of them are wearing necklaces adorned with little penises, he can only conclude he’s been swept up in the remnants of a Bachelorette party finally heading home. He’s so caught up in their surprisingly energetic chatter that he almost misses the large black car parked on the other end of the street.

He’s not an expert on cars, but it’s so different from anything else he’s seen that he’s willing to bet it’s a ’67 Impala.

Breaking away from the group of pink feather boas he’d become encased in, he quickly jogs across the street, peering into the window of the car. It’s fairly immaculate on the inside, the leather on the seats looking worn but comfy. There was nothing in it to indicate where Dean might have gone, or when he was coming back. The store right behind him is an electronic shop, and somehow he very much doubts that Dean is in there.

Letting out a deep breath, he glances at the restaurant a few doors down from the electronics shop. It contains an outdoor patio area where a few people are eating breakfast. He really, really doesn’t want to, but it looks as if he’ll have to ask them if they’ve seen Dean.

“Cas? That you?”

Castiel swings around so fast his eyes lose focus, and when he catches it again all he can see is Dean.

Dean, who is in a rumpled hoodie and a T-shirt. Dean, whose bow legs look even better in jeans than they did in shorts. Dean, whose eyes are still green and whose face is still so uniquely bright and just Dean Dean _Dean_.

Dean, who is looking at him with a mildly confused expression on his face.

“Where were you?” Castiel blurts out.

The confused furrow in Dean’s brow deepens and he looks around for some reason. “Running errands. Are you, uh…are you at one of the art galleries here, or..?”

“Sam said you ran away.”

“He wants me to get my own place, I figured if he needed it so bad I’d give him and Luke a night,” Dean frowns. “Why are you here?”

Castiel stops skimming his eyes over him (Dean is here, _in front of him_ ) and meets Dean’s questioning gaze. Spending a nine hour drive being assured by both himself and Gadreel that he could tell Dean how he felt was one thing. Actually standing here with a chance to do it is a whole different story.

“I got a commission. In Seattle.”

Dean cracks a small smile at this, though his stance is still closed off from Castiel, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Hate to break it ta ya Cas, but you’re a ways from Seattle.”

“I know,” Castiel nods. “I drove here from Chicago.”

“Is this explanation gonna start making sense anytime soon, Cas?”

“Sorry,” Castiel mutters, rubbing a hand over his face before he takes a step closer. Dean watches him warily, keeps his hands in his pockets. “Someone involved with the show saw my work and wanted me to do some drawings. I was meant to meet her in Seattle so we could go over what she wanted.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Dean says. “So shouldn’t you be in Seattle?”

“I was on the way there,” Castiel says. “There was a delay in Chicago and…” he sighs, swears softly under his breath, a Chinese phrase his old roommate had been fond of uttering. “I need you, Dean.”

Dean stares at him. “What?”

“I couldn’t go to Seattle,” he says, staring intently at Dean’s face. He’s unable to read any emotion there at all. “I’ve been drawing, but it hasn’t been…enjoyable. The only time I’ve enjoyed it is when I was with you, because I wanted to show it to you, and share it with you. I’ve never wanted to do that with anybody before. Then I realized—" Castiel cuts himself off and frowns. “You didn’t say you found love in the wild.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean agrees, and Castiel notices that his shoulders have relaxed slightly. “Neither did you.”

“I was mistaken,” he says bluntly, and his chest feels lighter already. He can’t take it back now. Dean will have to deal with it, just as he has.

“You were mistaken,” Dean repeats, and there’s clear emotion on his face now, although it’s one Castiel cannot identify. “So what are you saying here, Cas? You know you live in Boston, right?”

“I live in Boston because I’ve lived in that area my whole life,” Castiel tells him. “I’m not averse to moving if I need to.”

“Yeah, I dunno if that would work,” Dean says, and Castiel nods slowly. He wonders when the next flight to Seattle is.

“See, I just lost my place, and I thought I’d do some traveling before I found a new one.”

“Traveling?” Castiel asks, and it’s his turn to be confused. This was not the rejection he was expecting, and if it is, it’s the strangest he’s ever heard.

Dean looks supremely uncomfortable now, and he spreads his hands out, palms up. “Yeah. See, I figure – I feel the same way about you. Guess we both found love in the wild and never admitted it, and it kinda sucks that you weren’t able to get your trip since Jo and Benny handed our asses to us…” he shrugs and jerks a finger behind him. Castiel looks up to read the sign above the door a ways down. Celestial Travel Agency. “Anyway, flying’s a bitch, but how do you feel about cruises?”

Castiel can think of nothing to say except, “I like boats.”

“You like boats.” Dean’s lip curls into a small smile and he lets out a chuckle. “You—" Suddenly he’s directly in front of Castiel, his hands cupped around his face and his expression serious. “I fucking missed you, Cas.”

“I missed you as well,” Castiel says earnestly, and he finds that his hands are gripping Dean’s wrists. “Sam was afraid you thought he hated you.”

“Yeah, maybe I would’ve, if some jackass named Gabriel hadn’t written your number across the hood of my car,” Dean says. “Had to go through the car wash three times, but I got the hint.”

“You didn’t call me.”

“I was about to,” Dean rolls his eyes. “But turns out you’re just as big an idiot as I am. Coulda saved ourselves a load of trouble if we’d just said the shit we were thinking, huh?”

“I believe Sam encouraged me to do that a long time ago,” Castiel says quietly.

“Yeah, and maybe sometimes Sam knows what he’s talking about. You tell him I said that, and I will deny it to the grave.”

"Of course,” Castiel hums. “We’ll tell him you found me wandering around, lost and alone, and that you saved me from early morning joggers and small children on their way to school.”

“Damn straight I did,” Dean agrees. “Just like a man should.”

“Yes,” he continues, “and afterwards, like a man, you declared your undying love to me in the middle of the sidewalk for the whole world to see, putting your heart on display for—“

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean mutters, and he kisses him.


	13. Epilogue

The oven dings to announce that the food is ready, and Dean grins, because finally he can say it’s his crappy oven that’s making the annoying noises. It’s been so long since things have been his, but now he has his own bed, his own TV, his own coffeemaker…he shares it all with Cas, but somehow that makes it even better.

He lets it ding again just so he can hear it.

“Are you letting our food fucking burn?” Gabriel yells from the other room.

“You’re not allowed in here, Gabriel!” Dean yells back. He takes the nachos out of the oven just to shut him up, and to hopefully dissuade him from trying to get into the kitchen for the fifth time. Dean’s the only one who gets to cook in his damn kitchen.

“You know, if you let him look in the fridge he might be satisfied,” Charlie muses. Dean had put her on drink making duty, which might have been a mistake, since everything she’s poured so far is bright pink.

“House guests don’t get an opinion,” he jokes, and Charlie groans at him.

“You’re the one who lives out here in the frickin' armpit of America. Couldn’t you and Cas have moved to New York or something?”

“Cas likes it here,” Dean says defensively. Of course, he’d never say it out loud, but he’s pretty sure Cas realized Dean wouldn’t want to go very far from Sam. A six-week trip was enough. Besides, as an artist, Cas could work almost anywhere. Dean couldn’t close and open up shop as easily.

“I don’t care if Shatner himself likes it here, it’s still annoying having to fly out just to hang,” Charlie sighs, grabbing two glasses. Were those curly straws? Dean didn’t even know they had curly straws. “Maybe I’ll have to convince Gilda to move to Lawrence.”

“She’d steal every modeling job available here,” Dean says, picking up the plate of nachos and grabbing Sam’s stupid veggie tray with the other hand. Luckily most of the food is already in the sitting room, because Dean’s getting pretty tired of carrying things.

The apartment’s not exactly small, but with all the people stuffed into the family room, he and Cas may as well be living in a closet. Gilda’s sitting on the floor, and Charlie hands her a drink and sits beside her (apparently those pink things were only for them. Dean tries not to really want one now that he won’t be getting one). Jo’s on the couch, Benny next to her with his arm around her shoulders, and Balthazar and Bela, whom Cas had insisted they invite, were absolutely stealing the candlesticks Cas had put out to try to make the place more presentable. Sam’s on the floor as well, sitting between Luke’s legs, and Luke…Luke is in his chair.

“Hey, that’s my chair,” Dean barks.

“That’s what Luke told us before he sat in it,” Gabriel says cheerfully. Gabriel is sitting on the coffee table amid all the food, and he takes the nachos and veggie tray from Dean, setting them in his lap.

“Get off my table,” Dean tells him. “And you,” he points at Luke. “Get outta my chair.”

“No?” Luke raises an eyebrow.

Dean makes a move for him and is immediately stopped by Cas, who’s on the other end of the couch from Benny and Jo. “Dean,” he says sternly, pulling on him until he’s half on Cas’ lap. “Play nice.”

“He’s on my chair, Cas!” Dean protests. “We agreed when we bought it that it's my chair! I’m gonna watch football in that chair!”

“We’re not watching football now, so you can sit here,” Cas tells him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“Get a room!” Gabriel yells and throws a baby carrot at them.

“Been all around the world, then come back here and nothing’s changed,” Benny grumbles. “S’like culture shock in reverse.”

“Dean and Cas are actually admitting they like each other, that’s something new,” Jo says.

“It gets old very quickly,” Balthazar tells her.

“Give it two more minutes,” Bela adds.

“Everyone here is fucking ungrateful,” Dean mutters, and Cas just smiles at him, his arm around Dean’s waist tightening.         

Sam tilts his head at them, and Luke makes an annoyed noise at having to move his hand to keep it tangled in Sam’s hair. “Aren’t you two sick of each other after being trapped on a boat for so long?”

“I think we were too busy trying to find different places to have sex,” Cas says seriously. “There were a lot.”

“Did we even get off the ship, Cas?”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s impressive,” Gilda tells them, and she actually does look impressed. Sam, however, is making a face.

“Gross.”

“You brought it up,” Dean tells Sam smugly.

“You’d think Cassie would be sick of you by now,” Balthazar says, eyes flicking to the TV.

“Hey, everyone shut up,” Gabriel announces loudly. “My voice is on TV.”

Cas notices the slight furrow of a pout beginning to develop between Dean’s eyes and leans forward. “I doubt I’m going to ever grow tired of you,” he murmurs in his ear as the familiar, cheesy yellow font flashes up on screen in front of them.

“This week, on Love in the Wild..!”

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of things: Love in the Wild was a real show on NBC for two seasons, and I encourage you to go watch it if you're into horrible, horrible trash. And Jenny McCarthy. Seriously though, it's horrible. But oh so good.
> 
> The show, as far as I can see, does have a fairly high success rate for turning out lasting couples. Who knew.
> 
> The challenges and situations the contestants are put in really are this ridiculous. In fact, they are so ridiculous that there's no way I could have made up plausible ones on my own, and therefore mine are borrowed from the show over the course of two seasons, although many of them are mix-and-match and various aspects have been changed to fit the story.
> 
> Finally, the competition area I described doesn't actually exist. Again, it's more mix-and-match with what I needed for the story, and I'd be surprised if anywhere in Costa Rica actually matched its description.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the story! Feel from to leave comments and kudos, or come on over to my [tumblr](thursdaysfallenangel.tumblr.com) if you want to talk! Hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving, or a happy Thursday.


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